


The Girl under the Lantern

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/F, F/M, Gen, Rating May Change, just trust me on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: 1940: The Second World War reaches the Netherlands. The Dutch people refuse to give in, and resist their oppressors. This is their story.Birgit Westerveld is called upon by the Resistance to assist in the medical aid of a member from another city. She soon finds out that there are many secrets hidden underneath the surface, and that the war is going to become personal to her and all those around her.Frank Daels came in from Rotterdam to deliver a letter to Max Coenen, but a certain blonde nurse might be convincing enough to stay in Amsterdam.In the meantime, Vera Stevens-Bernard’s loyalty to her superior, Joanna Fortuyn, is put to the test, as Vera must decide for herself whether her values will cause her to take a stand, or whether her fears and diligence will make her support Fortuyn until the very end - wherever that may be."If we don't do something, who will?"(I swear this is Wentworth. Really. Trust me.)





	1. Sag Mir Wo Die Blumen Sind

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, sexual assault.  
> Content warnings: Period-typical violence, anti-Semitism, racism, homophobia and transphobia. Reference to a trans woman with male pronouns. Gender dysphoria. Also, this is World War II. Don't expect everyone to make it until the end.
> 
> Language notes:  
> Mevrouw (Mw.) = Mrs.  
> Juffrouw (Mej.) = Miss  
> Mijnheer (Dhr.) = Mr.  
> Meester (Mr.) = Master of Laws  
> Moffen = Germans (archaic slang, now derogatory)
> 
> All of the German used has the translations behind it, but the quality of the translation is based on how well the character hearing the German understands German. Most of the Dutch is Amsterdam or Rotterdam dialect. I'm the daughter of a Rotterdam woman, but I speak Standaardnederlands, Veluws and East Brabantian, so please forgive me if I've messed up either dialect.
> 
> Story notes:  
> Please note that all characters' names have been converted to Dutch names. It should be fairly clear who's who, but just in case, you can find a list of the characters' names in the end notes.
> 
> I have taken some liberty when it comes to the societal position of the characters, as we have a cast of mainly female characters.
> 
> If anything is unclear, please let me know! All places mentioned are existing locations, and I will try to stay as close to the actual historic events as possible. All characters are fictional, though the characters of Joanna Fortuyn (Joan Ferguson) and Sonja Speijer (Sonia Stevens) are based on two key figures who existed in reality.

_ Outside the barracks, by the corner light _

_ I'll always stand and wait for you at night _

_ We will create a world for two _

_ I'll wait for you the whole night through _

_ For you, Lili Marlene _

_ For you, Lili Marlene _

 

-x-

 

**_Prologue_ **

**_May 13th, 1940_ **

 

Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers hummed softly as she left the Prinsengracht hospital. It wasn't far to her home on the Lindengracht, and the sun shone brightly while she rode her bike through the streets of Amsterdam. As she neared her address, she could see a large commotion near her front door. 

“Mevrouw Westerveld! Thank goodness you're here!” one of the neighbours called out. “Has the news made it to the Prinsengracht yet?” Birgit shook her head: “What news?”

“The Germans have bombarded Rotterdam! The inner city is completely gone!”

“And this just after the royal family has left for England,” another added. 

“I thought we were neutral?” a woman she identified as the wife of the grocer from a few doors down asked. Suddenly she heard the voice of Theo, her husband, behind her: “Don't say such stupid things, Martha. The Moffen don't care; they'll destroy everything in their path!”

“Surely we won't capitulate!”

“Rotterdam is gone, Jan! All of it!” 

Birgit closed her eyes and let herself lean against her husband's chest as she clutched her cap against her mouth. Her mother lived in Rotterdam. This couldn’t be happening. 

 

Two days later the Dutch government signed the capitulation at Ridderkerk. The Netherlands had officially been taken in by the German Reich lead by Adolf Hitler. The Dutch people however refused to give in to the new regime. This is how Het Verzet - the Resistance - was born.

 

-x-X-x-

 

**_ Chapter One: Sag Mir Wo Die Blumen Sind _ **

**_Spring of 1941_ **

 

“Good morning, Vera.” The greeting came from Vera Stevens-Bernard’s stern boss, Joanna Fortuyn. 

“Good morning, Mevrouw Fortuyn,” the timid secretary greeted the woman, who was dressed in the standard jacket and skirt she had been handed by the Sicherheitsdienst. Vera was wearing the same SD-issued uniform, and yet she felt like the older woman filled it more adequately than she did.

“Any messages for me?” 

“None but the usual, Mevrouw. Meester Colijn is here; he is waiting for you in your office,” Vera replied, handing Joanna her mail. The woman frowned at the mention of the police commissioner. 

“Very well. Thank you, Vera.” With a quick click of her heels, Fortuyn had entered her office. Vera was just able to make out a cheery exclamation of: “Dirk Colijn! How may I help you?”

 

-x-

 

Birgit was making her rounds through the wards. She shook her head at the many soldiers, both Dutch and German, who were lying there in various states of suffering. A loud snarl brought her out of her concentration. 

 

_ “Verdammt! Wo ist hier dann die verdammte Krankenschwester wenn man sie braucht!”  _ \- Damn it! Where is that damned nurse when you need her!

 

She sighed and put on her friendliest smile. Walking over to the patient in question, she replied:

 

_ “Ich bin hier, Herr Königs. Wie kann ich Ihnen helfen?”  _ \- I am here, Mister Königs. How can I help you? 

 

The man huffed.

 

_ “Ihr Deutsch ist perfekt, Frau…? Ich habe Durst.”  _ \- Your German is perfect, Miss…? I'm thirsty.

 

_ “Meine Mutter war Deutsche,”  _ she explained.  _ “Ich hole Ihnen etwas zu trinken, ja?”  _ \- My mother was German. I'll get you something to drink, okay?

 

The grumbling man seemed to be able to live with that. As she walked towards the sink to grab him a glass of water, she swallowed a lump in her throat. She still dearly missed her mother, who had always been an example of the woman she wished to become. A gentle hand on her back made her look to her right. 

“She's with the Lord now, Birgit. May he have her soul.” Smiling softly, Birgit replied: “You're right. Thank you, Doortje.” The Dutch East Indian woman smiled back at her with a quick wink before continuing on her way. Doortje faced a lot of prejudice and racism, but Birgit couldn't imagine a better nurses’ aid. Not even her own husband understood why she had continued working after marrying into a wealthy family, but she felt like the Prinsengracht hospital was her home away from home. This was where she belonged - even if they were now under control of the Germans. 

 

Her day went by without much further disturbance, and before she knew it, Birgit’s shift had ended and she was getting ready to get on her way to the Vijzelstraat. Taking off her apron, she slipped three rolls of bandages into her purse. She retrieved a bottle from disinfectant from her dress pocket and hid that under her scarf at the bottom of her handbag. Looking around, she suddenly saw Doortje staring at her. She looked at the young woman with pleading eyes.

“I didn’t see a thing,” the nurses’ aide assured her. Breathing out, Birgit let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Thank you,” she mouthed. Doortje just winked. 

 

When she got outside Birgit rode her bike the few hundred metres to the Carlton Hotel. There, Theo was already standing next to the car that would take him to the station.

“Birgit!” He waved as she neared the small group standing near the entrance of the building. Smiling, she handed her bicycle to the valet boy and walked over to her husband. She kissed his cheek and greeted him: “Theo.” 

“I was worried you weren't going to make it, darling!” He pulled her into an embrace, and she took a moment to enjoy the protected feeling. It would be quite a while before she would see him again, after all. 

“I would never let you go without a goodbye, Theo.” She looked up at him with icy blue eyes, suddenly clouded with emotion. “Promise me you're coming back? I wouldn't know what to do without you.” Theo looked over her shoulder towards his second-in-command with a pained expression. Birgit knew as well as he did that with this war no-one could make promises like that. And yet he whispered: “I promise, as God is my witness. Will you try to stay safe, sweetie? Let everyone check in on you every once in a while?” She nodded silently in response. Theo had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, and now, at 27, she supposed this was love. She liked him, and she didn't mind spending time around him. 

 

“I have to go, Bir.” She nodded and stood on the tips of her toes to place one last kiss on his cheek.

“Be safe, Theo.”

“You too, darling. See you in three weeks.” He let go of her and stepped into the car. With one last wave, Theo disappeared out of her sight. Birgit waved until she completely lost view of the car. 

 

-x-

 

“Stop complaining and walk!” Vera was brought out of her thoughts by a very familiar voice yelling through the building. Getting up from her desk, she walked over to the gallery to see Jakob drag what seemed to be a Jewish woman through the lobby and up the stairs.

“Hello Mevrouw Stevens,” he greeted her as he stomped past her. “Come with me, bitch.”

“Good afternoon, Mijnheer Stevens,” she replied, smiling her brightest smile at him. 

“Is Fortuyn in her office?” Vera nodded. 

“I'll let her know you've brought a guest.”

 

-x-

 

Birgit was sitting in the hotel dining room nursing a coffee when one of their receptionists approached her.

“Mevrouw Westerveld, Mijnheer Coenen is here to see you.” She nodded.

“Thank you, Klaartje.” The girl swiftly walked towards the entrance of the grand hall and returned with Max Coenen, a close friend of the Westerveld family.

“Birgit, you look well,” he greeted her, kissing her cheek three times. “I'm terribly sorry to come bother you on your free afternoon, but we need your help. Someone's been hurt, and...” 

“Say no more, Max,” she interjected, and motioned for a waiter to come take away her cup. “I'll come with you right away. I just need to grab some supplies from the Lindengracht. Do you know the extent of the injuries?” She kept her tone hushed and neutral. You never knew who would be listening in.

“A leg that seems broken, and a whole bunch of cuts and bruises. That's all I know.” As they passed the main desk, Birgit told the receptionist: “Klaartje, if anyone is looking for me, I will be at the Coenen residence.”

 

As they biked along the Keizersgracht, Birgit asked: “How are you, Maxine?” The man nearly rode his bike into the city-canal. 

“Please, Birgit, do not utter that name in the street. I'm begging you.”

“Why?” she replied, signaling a left turn, “it is the name you wish to go by.”

“You know why,” was the only response, accompanied by a nod of the head towards a nearby Nazi soldier.

 

After Birgit had gathered her things from her home, the pair continued on towards Herengracht 386, completely silent as they travelled. The Coenen residence was a large double canal house that marked the view of the Herengracht. Max Coenen shared it with his brother and nieces.

“After you,” Max murmured as he opened the door for the blonde nurse. The sizeable home was buzzing with people just as it always had been, and Birgit quickly greeted Max’s brother with three kisses, but Max and she continued straight on towards the courtyard which led them towards the building at the back of the plot of land. They entered swiftly, and were met with quite a bit of commotion.

 

“Why can't I just go see what's up with ‘em, huh?” a broadly built young woman asked with a small whine, her raven hair nearly falling out of its ponytail. She couldn't have been much older than 19, Birgit mused. 

“Because that's why Birgit is coming,” was the soft-spoken answer coming from an older woman she recognised as being Elizabeth van Bunschoten-de Waal, or just ‘Lies’. “In fact, she's right behind you.” The young woman spun around with a look of disdain on her face.

“Pretty little princess huh?” She motioned at the sky blue cotton summer dress Birgit was wearing. Cotton was becoming scarce and expensive, and not many people could still afford it.

“Suzan!” Max called out. “Don’t you ever speak about Mevrouw Westerveld like that again! She is the one keeping us in decent shape, so you are in no position to talk about her in such a way.” Birgit shook her head.

“It’s forgiven, Max. And if you must know, this dress belonged to my mother.” Suzan looked her up and down.

“What happened to her then?”

“Rotterdam.” Suddenly, the young woman’s demeanor changed. 

“ _ Verdomme.  _ I’m so sorry.” She stuck out a hand towards Birgit. “Suzan Jonkers, but most call me Boemer.” Birgit smiled.

“Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers, but please, call me Birgit. Now, where is my patient?”

 

-x-

 

“As I see it, Juffrouw Speijer,” Joanna Fortuyn told the defiant woman currently sitting opposite of her, “you have exactly two options.” Sonja Speijer raised an eyebrow at her and scowled. Sonja and her sister owned one of the largest makeup companies in the northern provinces, and she wasn't easily intimidated. 

“I could report you. Put you on a train.” A small twitch of fear crept across the Jewish woman's face. No one knew exactly what happened once people got deported, but so far, no one had returned to be able to tell their tale.

“Or,” the SD employee continued, “I could pull some strings for you. That would be quite the charitable deed on my part. Now, the question is, how much is it worth to you, hmm?” Joanna smirked at the other woman. The cards were in her hands, and she decided how to play. Sonja attempted to stare her down, but Fortuyn held her gaze. She would not falter. 

 

“Fine. What do you want?”

 

-x-

 

Annelie Polak-Nelissen’s breath caught in her throat as the mailman handed her an envelope addressed to her husband. She had seen people receive these things before, and they never bore good news. 

“Otto, would you please come down?” she called out into the stairwell. Within seconds the man in question appeared in front of her. “It’s for you,” Annelie told him as she handed him the thin slip of paper.

 

Otto was silent as he read the letter. When he cleared his throat, Annelie held up a hand.

“We’ve been drafted, haven’t we?” Her husband shook his head.

“Just me, Annelie.”

 

-x-

 

“ _ Donderstraalt op! Mot je een spetter voor je broodmolê? Ik gooi je in ut lel! _ ” Birgit frowned at the yelled Rotterdam dialect she heard coming from the room to her left. It sounded just like her mother, but...more offensive. Max explained: “Part of the Resistance in Rotterdam; got hurt while on his way to deliver a letter.” Taking a deep breath, she took the few steps that led her towards the makeshift cot, and using her best Rotterdams she interrupted: “ _ Loop niet te jelmejouwen _ !” The young man sitting across from her, clutching his right arm, looked surprised to hear his native accent thrown back at him. His brown hair was short and neatly combed, which made the blood on his dress shirt stand out even more. Birgit stuck out a hand.

“Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers. Nurse.” 

“Frank Daels. Accountant, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.” He turned away from Birgit without shaking her hand.

“I'm going to need to take a look at your leg and shoulder, Frank.” She tried to carefully palpate his arms and chest through his shirt, but he jumped back as if she'd burned him.

“ _ Kolerewijf _ ! I said no!” In defence he held up his arms in front of his face, immediately wincing at the pain the abrupt movement must have caused in his shoulder. Max moved in front of Birgit, but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“It's okay, Max. I need everybody out. Now.” She stared Frank straight in the face. “Except for you.”

“There's no need to! I'm fine,  _ verdomme _ !” Birgit threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“Fine! Have it your way then.” She marched out of the room, leaving her supplies on the cot. Max could just hear her call out: “I'll be back tonight when the rest is here.”

 

-x-

 

Annelie felt like her entire world had collapsed. 

“What will I do without you, Otto? What will the twins do without you? How come we weren’t both drafted?” She was panicking, she knew it, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Suddenly she felt a sharp stinging as Otto’s hand connected with her cheek. Annelie went silent.

“You know perfectly well why I was drafted, dear. I’m Jewish. You’re not.”

 

-x-

 

“Here are your papers, Juffrouw Speijer. Although, it's Abbink now, I should say.” Joanna handed the woman the  _ persoonsbewijs  _ with a broad smirk, mentally counting the new wad of cash that was now hidden in her bureau drawer. “Now get out of my sights. You will report to Jakob Stevens.” She motioned for Sonja to leave. The other woman huffed gently, smoothed out a crease in her skirt and walked off, passing Vera on her way out. 

“What? Why isn't she incarcerated?” The secretary tried to get up from her desk to follow the Jewish woman outside, but Jakob’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Mevrouw Fortuyn helped the poor thing.” Vera smiled. Of course Joanna had helped her. Her boss was a good woman. She spotted Willem Jacobs and Linda Muller entering the building through the front entrance. 

“Your colleagues are here, darling,” she told Jakob. “You should go with them. Will I see you tonight?”

“Of course you will,” he assured her, before he walked down to meet his fellow officers.

 

-x-

 

That same evening, just before 7:00 PM, Birgit returned to the Herengracht. When she arrived, Max was already waiting for her. He kissed her on her cheek and led her upstairs to the attic, where two men and two women were sitting around an old table. She recognised the blonde woman at the head of the table as Katrijn Prinsen, or ‘Kat’ for short. The woman was the unofficial leader of the Resistance in Amsterdam and the surrounding towns. Kat might seem the epitome of a respectable housewife at first glance, but Birgit knew what she was capable of. Kat had grown up with six older brothers, and they had taught her how to defend herself. One of the men was Willem Jacobs, a police officer with his heart in the right spot. She thought she had seen the other man before, but she couldn't recall his name, and the red-headed woman sitting to her side didn't ring a bell whatsoever. 

“Hello everyone,” she greeted them, whilst pulling up a box to sit on. 

“I presume you remember Kat, Willem and Teus, Birgit?” Max asked. Birgit nodded. Of course, Mattheus van Veen. He was her mystery man. Theo had gone to secondary school with him. “And this is Beatrijs Smit,” he continued, motioning at the redhead. 

“Bea,” the woman corrected him. “I'm Willem’s upstairs neighbour.” 

“Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers.” 

“I hear you’re the one who puts us all back together if this all goes to shit?” the redhead joked. Birgit chuckled. 

“Something like that.” 

“Alright people,” Kat stated, “let’s try to talk this through before curfew.”

 

-x-

 

Annelie watched with teary eyes as her husband packed a few belongings into a suitcase. 

“They’ll be here soon,” Otto announced with a glance at the clock. She nodded. He took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead.

“Be strong. For the boys.” Nodding again, she closed her eyes. “I love you, Annelie.”

“I love you too.”

 

“ _ Polizei! Machen Sie die Tür auf! _ ” - Police! Open the door!

 

With a hug for his boys and one last kiss on Annelie’s cheek, Otto Polak walked downstairs, leaving his wife and kids standing in the door opening of their small apartment.

 

-x-

 

“It’s all set then,” Kat announced. “We hit them tomorrow morning.” The five other people huddled around the table nodded in agreement. 

“You should all hurry home then,” Max said as he looked at his watch. It was close to 8 o’clock, which meant the curfew was about to start. 

“I’ll accompany you, Bea,” Willem offered the redhead. She smiled. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that. How you dare travel the streets by yourself at night, I won’t understand, Birgit.” The blonde nurse shrugged, and responded: “I’m not that easily intimidated.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s a good quality in a time like this, Mevrouw Westerveld,” Teus told her with a wink as he buttoned his coat up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Within a minute Kat, Willem and Bea had all left. 

“Shouldn’t you be going too?” Max asked Birgit. “You don’t want to be fined for being outside after the curfew, do you?” She shook her head, and retrieved a slip of paper out of her dress pocket. Max read it out loud.

 

_ Sonderausweis. Westerveld-Kuijpers, Birgitta, geboren am 8-8-1913, Beruf Krankenpflegerin, wohnhaft in Amsterdam, Lindengracht No. 247, ist berechtigt zur Durchführung ihrer Dienstobliegenheiten in der Zeit von 20 Uhr bis 4 Uhr in Amsterdam die Strasse zu betreten und zwar zur Zurücklegung des Weges zwischen dem Ort der Dienstobliegenheiten und der Wohnung. Gültig bis 12 November 1943. Der Beauftragte der Reichskommissars für die Provinz N-H.  _

 

Free pass. Westerveld-Kuijpers, Birgitta, born on 8-8-1913, employed as nurse, living in Amsterdam, Lindengracht 247, has the right to tread the street between 8 PM and 4 AM for the continuation of her employment-related tasks and more precisely to traverse the road between the location of the employment tasks and the residence. Valid until 12 November 1943. The representative for the chief commissioner of the province of North-Holland.

 

“Do you realise how much power this gives you?” he asked. Birgit nodded silently. Suddenly, a closed door caught her eye.

“How is our patient doing?” she asked. Max shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine; he hasn’t yelled ever since you left him.” Birgit didn’t like the sound of that. 

“Do you mind if I go check on him?”

“If that’s really what you want to do, you should. I will be in the front building if you need me, and you know where the receiver is.” The blonde nodded and knocked on the thick wood, letting herself into the room when she didn’t hear an objection.

 

Frank was looking decisively more miserable than before. He was sweating, and looked at her through half-lidded eyes.

“ _ Tyf op _ , not you again.”

“Yes me again,” Birgit countered, walking up to the cot he was reclining on. “For the love of our good Lord, please just let me help you. Don’t let your stubbornness kill you. Please.” She looked at him, hoping her big blue eyes would help convince the headstrong man across from her.

“I…” Frank began, but he swallowed his words. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re going to want to kill me anyway once you…” he mumbled. Birgit raised an eyebrow at him. “Never mind.” As her nimble fingers started to unbutton his shirt, Frank closed his eyes and braced himself against the pain all touch to the upper right quadrant of his torso was causing. Once she’d gotten the dress shirt off of his body, Bridget eyed his undershirt. There were dried-up flecks of blood staining the cotton.

“I’ll need to take this off of you as well,” she announced as she gripped the hem. Frank’s hands flew to hers.

“Can’t you just work around it?”

“I’m a nurse by trade; it’s not the first bare male chest I’ve seen, and I doubt it’ll be the last one. Now stop whining.” Frank shot her an unsure look and clenched his eyes shut while she pulled the garment over his head. All Frank heard was a sharp intake of breath.

 

Bridget stared at the sight in front of her. Instead of the male torso she was expecting, she was faced with a completely-bandaged top half of Frank’s body. The bandages were old and dirty, and seemed to have been reused quite a few times.

“Did you think this would scare me off? I’ll replace them with some clean ones.” She spoke clearly but gently, in a voice she reserved for when she was dealing with nervous patients.

“Please don’t.” She could hear a tremor in Frank’s voice.

“Just relax. You’re safe with me.” Her small hands moved to the knot holding the dirtied cotton under tension, and let the loose end slip through. Centimetre by centimetre of surprisingly soft skin was uncovered by her actions, until Frank was sitting in front of her, completely bare.

 

“Oh.”

 

What Birgit was looking at, could only be described as one thing. 

Breasts.

Female breasts.

 

Frank’s eyes were clenched shut. Silently, Birgit grabbed a fresh bandage roll and began reapplying it around Frank’s form. She pulled tightly, hiding the feminine shape under white cotton. 

“This way you should feel less constricted, but it’s still functional,” she explained as she created a crossing pattern. She used a second roll to secure Frank’s shoulder. Once all clothing was back on, Frank asked: “How can I ever thank you?”

 

“Tell me your story.”


	2. Allein in Einer Grossen Stadt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the way Frank binds is highly medically irresponsible and dangerous - do not try this at home. 
> 
> I am aware that I am misgendering a canonically transgender character - Maxine. However, it's just impossible in the time period. I apologise profusely if this offends anyone; I really don't mean to.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback! I know this AU is a stretch, but I'm trying to keep this as much in-character as I possibly can.

_ Spring of 1941 _

 

Frank looked at Birgit hesitantly before he cleared his throat nervously and began talking.

“I was born on June fifth of 1918 in ‘s-Gravendeel to Samuel and Hanna Meijer. As Franka Meijer.” Anxious green eyes locked onto blue.

“You’re Jewish,” Birgit realised at the surname. Carefully, she grasped Frank’s hand in her own.

“That’s the thing you notice?” Frank asked, astonished. “My religion?” The blonde nurse shrugged, and replied: “Is there something else to take note of, then?”

“Biologically-speaking, I’m a woman!” her patient nearly yelled out.

“But you feel like a man?” Birgit asked.

“I…” Frank paused, taking the time to process his thoughts. “No, and yes. I’m a woman. I know I am a woman, but I’ve been going through life for so long as a man now, that I’m completely used to being seen as male, and being referred to with ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

“So then I will continue to refer to you as a man,” Birgit decided. “This doesn’t change anything.” After a few moments of silence, she asked: “Why?” Frank sighed deeply.

 

“My father died when I was twelve, making my mother a single mom to four daughters. There was me, 2-year-old twins, and a one-month-old baby. That's when the harassment began. We had no man in the family to defend her, so it was like there were no rules when it came to people saying things about her and to her.”

“That's awful!” Birgit commented. Frank nodded,and continued: “Then a few months later, we were going to move to Rotterdam. I couldn't stand the talking anymore. Mother always said I was like the son she never had, and I decided to become that son.”

“A big decision.”

“Yes. She didn’t agree at first, but I was strong-minded. The day we moved she cut my hair and handed me boys’ clothes she had gotten from a neighbour who was getting rid of her son's stuff. I've never worn a dress ever since.”

“Where is she now?” Birgit asked, as she realised she was still holding Frank’s hand. She quickly let go. She was married; what would people think of her if she was holding another man's hand? Frank sighed once more.

“The bombing. I lost everyone.”

“So did I.”

“I'm so sorry.” Birgit just nodded. 

 

They sat together in silence for a while. Suddenly they heard church bells signalling that it was nine o’clock. 

“I should get going,” Birgit realised. “It's late, and I'll be back here tomorrow.” Frank raised his eyebrows at her.

“You're not seriously going to traverse the streets by yourself at this hour? Besides, it's curfew!” He was nearly yelling at her. The blonde shook her head. 

“I'm perfectly fine by myself, thank you very much. And I have a Sonderausweis. Besides, I need my sleep. They need me tomorrow.” 

“I'll help!” Frank attempted to sit up, but winced as pain shot through his shoulder. Chuckling, Bridget helped him recline against his pillow again.

“Obviously you're in no state to go out.”

“Can't someone else go in your place, Gitte?” The young man was concerned about the friendly face sitting across from him. She looked tired, and she was slim-built. She didn’t look like she could absorb much. Sighing softly, she replied: “I speak German. They need that. And it's Birgit.” Frank winked at her.

“I prefer Gitte. It suits you. But German! Anyone with even just one percent of  _ Mof  _ in them is just as bad as the Führer himself!”

 

Suddenly, Birgit got up. Her entire attitude had changed within seconds. Scrambling backwards, she grabbed her things, ran out of the room and slammed the door shut. Within a minute, there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Frank held his breath, hoping it would be the lovely blonde again, but instead the head of Max Coenen peeked around the corner.

“Care to explain why I just had a very distressed Birgit Westerveld run through my house and out the door?” Frank ran a hand through his hair.

“I honestly have no idea. We were talking, and then I said something about the Moffen, and she ran off.” Max’s brow furrowed, and he asked: “What exactly did you say?” His tone was much lower and darker than before.

“All I said is that they're all bad, whether they've got one percent or one hundred percent of German in them. They all belong to Hitler!” The taller man's face dropped. “What?” Frank exclaimed. Sighing, Max explained: “Birgit is half-German, Frank. And she struggles with it.” 

 

After a few moments of utter silence, Frank muttered: “Well, I've really messed that up, haven't I?”

 

-x-

 

The following morning, a crew of six - three men and three women - gathered in the courtyard of the Coenen residence. The men were all in suits, except for one of them who was wearing a police uniform, and the women in pencil skirts and white blouses. Frank observed them from the small window in the room he was in. Looking closer, he noticed that Birgit was dressed differently. Her skirt was of a heavy black material and flared slightly, and she had a thick jacket draped over one arm. He recognised that jacket. He'd seen many of them before. 

“ _ Die’s rijp voor Maasoord _ ,” he mumbled. Birgit was carrying a  _ Schutzstaffel _ uniform. What in the world was she doing posing as an SS-member? He tried getting up; going down to the courtyard to prevent the blonde nurse from putting herself in so much danger, but the pain in his leg and shoulder prevented it. He had to sit and watch as they divided themselves into two groups of three, and walked out into the street.

 

-x-

 

Vera was writing addresses onto envelopes when suddenly Joanna was standing in front of her desk.

“May I help you, Mevrouw?” she asked, feeling a blush creep up her neck and chest. She had nothing to feel anxious about - she had been doing exactly as she had been told, she knew that - but the older woman had a way of making her nervous just by being in her presence. Fortuyn dropped a list of names onto her desk.

“Please make sure these get to Meester Colijn.” The young secretary’s eyes quickly scanned the piece of paper. Some of the names looked familiar to her. They were big-shots; people with a lot of influence in the city. “They're a bunch of  _ landsverraders _ , traitors, and they need to be taken care of. I want you to deliver it yourself.” Nodding, Vera got up from her chair and draped her scarf around her neck.

“Right away, Mevrouw.” Her boss smiled.

“Thank you, Vera. I appreciate your work ethic.” The younger woman felt her ears burn and a flash of pride rush through her being. Not wanting to disappoint Joanna now, she grabbed the list and quickly made her way over to the police headquarters. 

 

-x-

 

“Okay everyone,” Kat announced, “Max and Willem are driving. Birgit and Teus go with Willem. Bir, put the jacket under the seat in case we get stopped. Bea and I will travel with Max. When we reach Voorschoten, we stop for one final meeting. After that, we continue straight on to the  _ Landsdrukkerij _ . Is everyone still up for this? This is your last chance to back out. Once we're there; it's on, no matter what.” All of the people present nodded silently. “Let's do this then.” 

 

Just before they exited the courtyard, Max stopped Birgit with a hand on her forearm.

“Are you okay?” 

“Of course, why wouldn't I be?” she asked in response. “Come on, Kat is waiting for us, and we don't want to keep her.” Offering her an arm, Max led the small blonde towards the two waiting cars. One belonged to Max, and the other belonged to Willem. 

 

The trip towards The Hague was long and uneventful. Teus and Willem chattered away in the car, and though they attempted to incorporate Birgit in their conversation, she preferred to stare out of the window at the scenery that was flying by. In the other vehicle, Kat was going through their plans once more with Bea, while Max was gently humming some old tunes. The sextet reached Voorburg within the hour, and Birgit swiftly pulled the SS-jacket out from underneath her while the men donned flat caps and the women pinned their hair and pulled emblems around their upper arms. While they were standing on the side of the road, secluded by thick shrubbery and some trees, Kat asked: “Are you still up for this, Birgit? They can have no doubt about your nationality; they must think you're German or we're screwed.” The younger blonde nodded.

“I've got this.”

 

-x-

 

Jakob Stevens raised his eyebrows when he saw his wife come rushing through the entrance of the headquarters. He walked over to her and blocked her path.

“Vera, is everything alright? What do you need?” He gently took hold of her wrists. If she'd come over in such a hurry, she must need his assistance at once! His wife however shook her head.

“What I need, is to get this,” she said as she motioned with her right hand, “to Meester Colijn.” In her hand, she was clutching a piece of paper that bore the mark of the SD. “They're traitors,” she whispered like a small child telling another a secret.

“Oh.” Jakob didn't know what else to say. “Well, I won't keep you then. I have a meeting to get to anyway.” He let go of the excited secretary, who smiled broadly before turning around and nearly running up the stairs. Shaking his head, he walked outside. Now where was that Jewish bitch?

 

-x-

 

“ _ Guten Morgen _ ,” Birgit announced as the group of six walked up towards the receptionist of the  _ Landsdrukkerij.  _ “ _ Der Name ist Steiger - Andrea Steiger. Wir sind hier für eine unerwartete Überprüfung der Qualität der Druckerei. _ ” She nodded towards Willem. “ _ Der Polizist ist hier für den Fall, dass etwas nicht in Ordnung ist, ja? _ ” - Good morning. The name is Steiger - Andrea Steiger. We are here for an unannounced check of the quality of the printing office. The police officer is here just in case something is not the way it should be, okay?

 

The guard manning the receptionist looked positively nervous being confronted with such a high power of authority. He couldn't have been much older than eighteen, Birgit thought.

 

“ _ Dann muss ich mein Chef holen. Er ist jetzt mit Kaffeepause, aber er soll gleich wieder sein, Frau Steiger. _ ” - Then I have to get my boss. He is now with coffee break, but he should right back being, Miss Steiger. 

 

Birgit had to suppress a chuckle at the man's broken German. She scoffed, and sighed.

 

“ _ Komm, wir haben nicht viel Zeit! Beeilen Sie sich! _ ” - Come on, we don't have much time. Hurry up!

 

Stuttering slightly, the guard responded: “ _ Ja, Entschuldigung, Frau Steiger. Das tu ich. _ ” - Yes, forgive me, Miss Steiger. I do that.

 

Trembling slightly, the young man grabbed keys from a shelf. “I will lead the way.”

 

-x-

 

Back in Voorburg, about an hour later, Birgit was laughing loudly while Willem performed a reenactment of her performance as Andrea Steiger. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Birgit.” The compliment came from Bea, who was standing to the side, leaning against one of the cars.

“We all did great,” Kat concurred. “Now, let's get changed, and get out of here.” Separating themselves from the others for a minute, the men changed into more casual suits, and the women exchanged the tight skirts and stiff blouses for lightweight day dresses.

“Ready to go?” Kat asked once they had all gathered near the cars again. “Willem, Bea and I will go with you, so we can get this to Gerrit. Is that okay with you guys?” she asked, motioning towards Max, Teus and Birgit while she waved the newly-acquired sheets of empty _persoonsbewijzen_ in the air. 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

Max got in behind the steering wheel, and it was quickly decided that Birgit would sit in the back so Teus could navigate. As she got in, Max suddenly handed her a folded piece of paper. Murmuring softly, he explained: “It’s from Frank Daels. I didn’t want to give it to you earlier because you needed to concentrate; please forgive me.” Birgit shot him a confused look, but accepted the slip of paper nonetheless. As both cars drove away into the direction of Amsterdam, she folded it open.

_ Moe je horê, ‘k ben meschien un dakduif, maar da’s altijd nog beter as un dooie met un dag verlof. Het spijt me. F. Daels. _

She chuckled at the crude Rotterdams that Frank had used to apologise to her. Heavens, his handwriting was horrible. When she’d gotten home the night before, she had taken some time to calm down, and to try to see it from his point of view. Frank was Jewish, and had lost his entire family to the Nazis. It was no wonder he had a deep dislike for Germans. 

 

When they arrived at the Herengracht, she immediately got out of the car and walked into the Coenen household kitchen. Grabbing an apple, she exited through the back, making her way across the courtyard to the back house. She only had to traverse one flight of stairs to get to the room Frank was in. She knocked on the door, and when she heard the calm: “Enter!” she opened it, leaning against the frame. Frank’s eyes lit up at the sight of the nurse. 

“Did everything go okay? Anyone hurt?”

“Everyone’s fine, and it went according to plan.” Smiling, she chucked the apple at his head. “Here. It’s good for you.  _ Dakduif. _ ”

 

-x-

 

The next few weeks went by without any disturbances - well, if you could call any situation during wartime ‘uneventful’, that is. Frank’s wounds were healing nicely, and Birgit checked up on her patient daily. Before she knew it, it was time for Theo to return to her, and she had been excited all day.

“You’ve really missed him, huh?” Frank asked as she was grabbing her things. Willem Jacobs was to meet her by her home, and together they would go to the train station to welcome him back home. Birgit never liked these business trips, especially now that Europe was at war. 

“He’s my everything,” she explained. “He’s my only family.” Frank nodded solemnly. If anything, he understood what it was like to have no-one left.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked. Smiling, the blonde nurse replied: “Of course. Someone’s got to bandage that shoulder of yours!”

 

As promised, Willem was waiting for her outside her front door. When she’d parked and locked her bicycle, he suggested: “It’s a lovely evening still, and it isn’t far. Would you like to walk?” She nodded, and he offered her an arm. Together the tall police officer and petite woman travelled the ten minutes it took them to get to Amsterdam Central station. They were right on time; as they arrived onto platform 2, the train from Maastricht was just entering the station. Birgit could hardly contain her excitement and Willem just watched the happy woman in amusement. 

 

However, after a few minutes all passengers seemed to have exited the train, and yet, Theo was absent. Birgit walked up to a ticket collector in confusion.

“Good evening Mevrouw, how may I help you?” the man in question asked her, smiling gently.

“Good evening. My husband was to be on this train, and yet he hasn’t exited yet. Could you possibly confirm whether he was on here?” She looked at the man with worried eyes. He ran a hand across the back of his neck.

“I’m not really supposed to, but…” Suddenly Willem was standing beside her.

“Would it help if I asked you to?” He was still wearing his uniform, and pulled his papers out of his pocket.

“How could I refuse such a lovely lady?” the man confirmed with a wink, and grabbed a list of passengers from inside of the carriage. “What is his name, please?”

“Westerveld, Theodoor. Theo,” Birgit quickly replied. The ticket inspector shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, Mevrouw Westerveld. Your husband was registered as a passenger, but he never got on. He was never on this train.”

Birgit felt like someone had just struck away the ground beneath her feet.

 

-x-

 

“ _ Mama _ !” The call of both of her boys interrupted Annelie as she was folding their clothing.

“No yelling inside the house, please,” she told Bram and Eduard as they came rushing into the room. Suddenly she realised her twins were crying. “Oh my, what seems to be the problem?” she asked, crouching down to look them in the eyes.

“Jan and Zus say they can’t play with us anymore because of  _ Papa _ being Jewish!”

“But we like playing with them!  _ Papa _ is a good person!” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Annelie stood back up and ruffled their hair.

“I’ll go talk to their mother, okay? After all, you’re my children too.” She tried saying it as decisive as she could, possibly more to convince herself than her boys. In the back of her mind, however, somehow, she knew that this wouldn’t be the end of it.

 

-x-

 

The next week went by in a blur. Every time someone was at the door, Birgit hoped it would be Theo, or someone who could tell her where he was, but it never was. No one knew where her husband had disappeared to, or whether he was even alive. If if hadn’t been for the combined efforts of Max, Bea and Lies, she probably would have perished herself. Max kept her company during the nights when she was crying, scared for what had happened to the very centre of her universe, and Bea and Lies made sure she ate and had clean clothing every day. 

 

Ten days after Theo was supposed to have returned to her, she was sitting in the back house of the Coenen residence, where Frank was attempting to distract her with a game of  _ Mens-Erger-Je-Niet _ . He was recovering well, and had started walking around with the support of a cane. All of a sudden, someone clearing their throat in the doorway caught their attention. Max was standing in the hallway, a serious look on his face.

“Birgit, they’ve found Theo.” The blonde nurse all but jumped up in excitement.

“They have? Where? Can I speak to him?” Max’s expression turned pained. Birgit’s elation quickly reverted into worry. “What? What is it?”

“They need you to come to Eindhoven to identify his body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: Eid mubarak to everyone out there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Once again, I'd love to hear your feedback! :)  
> Bonus points will be awarded to anyone who can figure out where the chapter titles are from without using Google. ;)
> 
> Rotterdam dialect:  
> Die’s rijp voor Maasoord - That one’s nuts
> 
> Moe je horê, ‘k ben meschien un dakduif, maar da’s altijd nog beter as un dooie met un dag verlof. Het spijt me. F. Daels. - Listen up, I may be an idiot, but that’s always better than a boring person. I’m sorry. F. Daels.
> 
> Dakduif - Idiot, crazy person. (Literally: roof pigeon)
> 
> Un dooie met un dag verlof - A boring person. (Literally: a dead guy on his day off)
> 
> Standaardnederlands:  
> Mens-Erger-Je-Niet: A board game similar to Parcheesi, Trouble and Ludo.


	3. Bitte Geh Nicht Fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For me, the theme song of this story has become "Als Wij Niets Doen" from a Dutch musical called Soldaat van Oranje (in which Loes Haverkort (the Dutch 'Allie') and Stefan Rokebrand (the Dutch 'Maxine') happen to have starred). You can find it at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PibSajXMQfU. 
> 
> Since I am very aware that most of you if not all of you don't speak Dutch, I have provided a translation of the lyrics at https://docs.google.com/document/d/1J5l5bTxTbWcvEfkeKfwGCD-ezst2-YZQ-aqbdbrTsgY/.

_ Late spring of 1941 _

 

Birgit was trembling as she asked: “When can we leave?” 

“Now, if you want,” Max replied, offering her his arm for support, but the blonde nurse refused. She wrapped her arms around herself. This could not be happening. Not again. “Do you want to bring anyone with, for support?” the man asked. Birgit turned her gaze towards Frank.

“Can you…” She motioned at his leg. Frank grabbed his cane from its resting spot near the table.

“Of course.”

 

The car ride to Eindhoven was long, and Birgit became more and more silent as the time went by. Endless rows of trees and fields seemed to go on forever, interrupted very seldomly by towns and cities and the occasional checkpoint. Her face looked even paler due to the dark grey dress she had quickly changed into.

“We're almost there,” Max murmured as they entered the city limits. He stopped the car near a group of police officers. 

“Excuse me, we're looking for the  _ Rooms Katholiek Binnenziekenhuis  _ morgue?” All officers took off their caps and lowered their weapons at the sight of the woman sitting in the back of the car with clasped hands, gazing into the distance. 

“My condolences,” one of them offered as another made the sign of the cross. “ _ Dâ’s nie wijt.  _ Continue straight, until the Veldmaarschalk Montgomerylaan turns into the Vestdijk. Then it's on your right hand.” The Brabants accent felt strange in their ears; the soft G was not something they were used to at all. The officers all nodded at the three in the car.

 

As they walked through the entrance of the large building, Max walked in front of the other two, while Birgit held on to Frank’s arm like her life depended on it. They were greeted by a nurse. For once in her life, Birgit was grateful there were different hospitals for different religions. The Catholic nurses’ uniforms were miles away from her own uniform. 

“Mevrouw Westerveld?” the middle-aged woman asked in a gentle voice. Birgit could only nod. Max approached the nurse and introduced them: “I am Max Coenen. This is indeed Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers, and the young man here is Frank Daels.” The woman nodded.

“If you would please wait here for just a second, I'll go find someone to escort you to the morgue.” The woman spoke in such heavy dialect that Frank almost couldn’t understand her at all. She walked off swiftly, and returned before they knew it, with a teenaged girl following her. “This is Margreet, and she will accompany you.” The girl nodded politely and motioned for the three to follow her. She led them through what felt like kilometres of granite-floored hallways before they reached a door marked  _ Mortuarium _ . 

“It's right through here,” Margreet told them as she held the door open for them. Max and Frank nodded, gently coercing her through the large double doors. Five men were awaiting them, one in a white doctor's’ coat, two in police uniforms, a pastor and one in a military uniform. In the centre of the room there was a metal table covered by a white sheet. Suddenly Frank felt incredibly grateful that he had come along. This felt intimidating to him; he couldn't imagine how Birgit must have been feeling. 

 

“Mevrouw Westerveld?” Birgit nodded. The doctor took hold of the edge of the sheet and carefully folded it back, unveiling a bluish face. The man had light blond hair, but it was stained with reddish-brown marks. Blood, Frank realised, as his eyes followed the trail to a bullet wound in the man’s temple. “Is this your husband?” All eyes in the room except for Max’s locked onto Birgit’s pale face. She took a few steps towards the body and tentatively reached out to touch the blond hair.

“ _ Mijn hemel… _ Yes.” Suddenly she clasped a hand in front of her mouth. “Excuse me.” Birgit quickly walked out of the room, looking decidedly weaker than when she had entered. 

“Go after her, please,” Max told Frank. “I can provide further details on Meneer Westerveld.  _ Verdomme,  _ Theo.” 

 

Franky rushed out of the morgue as fast as his cane could take him, following the directions of a few nurses he encountered along the way. It took him to the inner courtyard of the hospital, where he found Birgit standing near a statue of the Virgin Mary, illuminated by the glow of a single lantern. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“I'm so sorry, Gitte,” he spoke earnestly. He was at a loss for words. What did you tell a woman who had just lost her husband, after she had already lost her entire family only a little over a year ago? He reached out to take her hand and gently guided her towards a nearby bench, sitting down next to her. The moment they sat down, Birgit looked up at Frank with her big blue eyes.

“He's all I had left. The war has taken everyone from me now.”

 

-x-

 

The funeral five days later, though attended by over one hundred people, was modest. Birgit had Max and Willem to lean on and Doortje and Kaat behind her, and Frank observed from a respectful distance. It seemed Theo had been loved by many, and person after person came up to the front to tell about the things he had done for them. The hotel restaurant and bar were closed for the day and Birgit had arranged for workers from an employment agency to tend to the rooms for the morning so the staff could be present as well if they wanted to. Frank felt guilty for only having one image of him in his mind: Theo Westerveld with a bullet wound, cold and stiff on a metal table in the far southeast of the country, surrounded by strange accents. 

 

He looked at the woman sitting in the front of the church. Despite her emotions, and despite her desperation, Birgit presented herself gracefully and elegantly. She wore a simple black blouse and skirt, and her hair was pinned up as it always was, but now she wore a thin black mourning veil. She was beautiful, Frank decided. He would do anything to make her smile again.

 

-x-

 

_ Early winter of 1941 _

 

The summer went by, and everything returned to its normal rhythm quite quickly and easily. Birgit had taken over leading the Carlton, though she still helped out at the hospital when she could, and Frank did the bookkeeping in exchange for room and board. His leg had healed well, so everyone expected him to leave the city again. He had told her however: “I have no reason to go back to Rotterdam, and you could use my expertise.” Birgit had nodded gratefully, but she hadn't smiled.

 

In fact, she hadn't smiled at all since she had called him a  _ dakduif _ . She did her job. She attended church. She helped out everywhere she possibly could. But she didn't smile. The war had affected every part of her life and was corrupting her heart. Frank figured he was failing miserably at completing his mission. He had to do something. The blonde needed some light back in her life, and fast.

 

Boemer’s nineteenth birthday was today, and Birgit had offered the girl to host the party at the Carlton. The young girl was over the moon.

“I've never had such a posh party!” she'd called out. Lies had sewn a dress for her out of fabric supplied by Kaat and Bea. The men had come together to gift her a necklace, and Annelie and Doortje had done her hair and make-up. 

“ _ Attelenooije _ ! I feel like a princess!” Boemer announced when she entered the hotel ballroom, which had been closed to the guests for the evening. Everyone had been offered rooms on the top floor, so no one had to worry about the curfew. 

 

The birthday girl was standing in the middle of the dance floor, talking to Annelie. The entire gang was present, along with their children. All radios had been confiscated by the Germans, but luckily the hotel owned a piano, and a handful of the party guests knew how to play. Sofie, Lies’ daughter, was currently providing soft, gentle tunes. Birgit walked up to Boomer and handed her a thin package.

“Happy birthday, Suzan.” Grinning broadly, the girl replied: “Thanks!” She roughly ripped the brown wrapping paper, unveiling a bright red silk scarf. The younger girls gasped at the reveal. Silk had become ridiculously expensive and scarce.

“It's real pretty Mevrouw Westerveld, thank you.”

 

Suddenly Sofie began playing a more upbeat song, and Max invited Boemer to dance. Annelie and Doortje danced with her two boys, Bram and Eduard. Just as Frank had gathered the courage to ask a certain blonde nurse to dance, a young girl with long brown curls appeared in front of him, looking at him expectantly, with a winking Bea behind her. Smiling, he offered her a hand.

“May I have this dance, Juffrouw Debby?” The six-year-old giggled and nodded. Frank took her by the hand and guided her towards the middle of the room. He spun her around in circles to the rhythm across the floor. Debby giggled the entire time. After a few moments, he helped her step onto his shoes so he could dance properly with her. The young brunette squealed as her mother looked on, smiling. When the song had finished, Max switched places with Sofie, and began playing something slow. Debbie ran off to play with the other kids, claiming: “This song is boring!” Frank laughed, shaking his head. Finally being able to do what he first intended, he walked over to Birgit, who was seated next to Kaat.

“May I?” He bowed and offered his hand. With a soft nudge from the woman beside her, Birgit nodded and accepted the invitation, just as Max switched to a more lively waltz. Tchaikovsky, Frank realised. 

“Do you know the Viennese waltz?” he asked. The blonde nodded, and turned her head to the left, bending slightly backwards. Frank smiled. Of course she did. He led her across the floor in an endless cycle of turns, seamlessly switching between natural and reversed. Birgit followed perfectly, letting him take the lead as she had been once taught to. Deciding to see how much she knew, Frank worked in a contra check and a sequence of fleckerls. She did not falter, and in fact, a slight smile appeared on her face. 

 

Suddenly Frank felt the bandaging around his chest come loose. Panic arose quickly. If his secret came out, it could have lethal consequences for him and anyone surrounding him.  _ Verdomme _ ! He abruptly broke off the waltz, and rushed out of the ballroom with a mumbled apology, leaving Birgit standing under the chandelier. 

 

-x-

 

“If you give your possessions to me,” Vera heard Joanna tell an arrested Jewish woman, I will make sure they stay out of the hands of the  _ Sicherheitsdienst.  _ “I will keep them safe for you until the war is over. Us women have to look out for one another, don't we?”

 

Her boss had a good heart, she decided. If only she could be a tenth of the person she was, she would be better than she had ever been.

 

-x-

 

A soft knock at the door of his room alerted Frank, and he called out: “Just a minute!”

“Frank? It's me.” That warm alto voice could only belong to one person. The one person he trusted with this. He walked over to the door and opened it while hiding behind the wood. Birgit stepped inside, a concerned look on her face as he locked the door behind her.

“Are you alright?” she asked, a hand reaching out to touch his. Sighing, Frank finished unbuttoning his dress shirt and motioned at the bandaging. 

“It came loose,” he explained. Nodding silently, Birgit raised her hands to the edge of the cotton. 

“May I?” 

 

When Frank didn't object, she carefully began removing the fabric from his body. The skin of his chest was red and scarred from years of constriction, and he bowed his head in shame. Birgit smoothed out the roll of bandages and reapplied them with practiced ease.

“You're much better at this than I am,” he joked. Smiling softly once again, she replied: “I went to school for this, remember?” Within mere seconds she had finished, and Frank felt a feeling of relief travel through his body. Gently taking her hands in his, he looked her in the eye as he uttered: “Thank you, so much.” She shook her head.

“It’s no big deal.” 

“But it is,” he objected, bending his head towards hers. He moved slowly and carefully, giving her the opportunity to back away, but all she did was relax her mouth. Frank tenderly touched his lips against hers. He let Birgit decide what she was comfortable with, and indeed the woman broke the kiss after a few seconds. 

“Thank you,” he repeated again. She blushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eindhovens (Brabants) dialect:  
> Dâ’s nie wijt: It’s not far.
> 
> Standaardnederlands:  
> Rooms Katholiek Binnenziekenhuis: Roman Catholic Inner Hospital  
> Mortuarium: Morgue  
> Mijn hemel: Heavens me  
> Verdomme: Damn it
> 
> Amsterdam dialect:  
> Attelenooije: Wow!; Oh my!


	4. Die Welt War Jung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for not having updated this story in so long! It's quite taxing to write, and it takes a lot of research, which means I need to be in the right mood to work on it. Thank you for still sticking with me on this wild ride!

_ Late winter of 1942 _

 

“Are you excited?” Birgit asked the bouncy girl skipping alongside her. Debby was wearing a new dress Lies had made her from two of Birgit’s old ones. 

“Very!” the young one exclaimed, hopping around to Birgit’s other side to be able to hold Max’s hand as they neared the gates. A large sign on the metal bars announced: “ _ Voor Joden verboden. _ ” Frank’s face tensed up at the sight, and Birgit’s hand found its way into his. Luckily, Debby was unaware of everything going on, and the girl’s squealing enthusiasm quickly put a smile on all of their faces. Despite everything that was going on, the people of Amsterdam still managed to find the  _ Artis  _ zoo, and Birgit had promised Debby she would take her a couple of weeks ago.

Once they had entered through the gates, Birgit lead the group of friends towards the feed salesman. She laid a hand on Debby’s shoulder and encouraged her: “Go on, you may ask the young man for a bag.” The salesman, no older than 20, smiled reassuringly at the youngster and got down onto his haunches.

“Could I be of assistance, Juffrouw?” The 7-year-old giggled shyly, and hiding behind Birgit’s legs, mumbled: “Might I please have some feed, Mijnheer?”

“Well, of course, Juffrouw!” He handed her a brightly-striped paper bag filled with grain. While Debby excitedly showed it to Bea and Annelie, Max dropped a few coins into the seller’s hand.

“Thank you, I wish you all a lovely day,” he greeted them. “And I must say you have a lovely daughter,” he added, nodding towards Birgit. Just as the blonde was about to protest, Debby commented: “That’s not my  _ mama _ ! That’s Mevrouw Westerveld!” The entire group froze and stared at Birgit. With a gentle voice, she corrected: “Juffrouw Westerveld.” The vendor removed his hat and bowed his head before putting it on again.

“And yes, she is quite lovely,” Birgit added with a wink. Trying to lighten the mood, Max pulled Debby onto his shoulders while she squealed, and announced: “Come on then! To the petting zoo, we go!”

 

Hours later, the group of friends found themselves at the corner teahouse near the forest area, having a coffee while Frank was entertaining Debby by imitating their friends. The little brunette nearly spit out her lemonade because she was giggling so much.

“You’re going to make her choke on that drink!” Birgit chided, gently swatting his elbow as he hunched his shoulders, embodying Teus, though she couldn’t suppress a smile herself. Suddenly the little girl whispered: “I need the bathroom.” She was biting her bottom lip. Glancing at Bea, Birgit realised she was discussing supply raids in code with Max.

“I’ll take her, if you’d like?” she offered. Bea nodded gratefully. “Come on then, little lady!” Debby took hold of her left hand, and together they walked the small distance towards the ladies’ room along the stone path. While she waited for the girl to be finished, the blonde checked her makeup in the mirrors above the sinks. As she was reapplying her lipstick, a voice behind her commented: 

“ _ Die Deutsche Frau raucht nicht, die Deutsche Frau trinkt nicht und die Deutsche Frau schminkt sich nicht. _ ” - The German woman does not smoke, the German woman does not drink and the German woman does not use makeup.

Birgit spun around to face Joanna Fortuyn. Plastering a fake, polite smile on her face, the blonde responded: “It’s a good thing I’m Dutch then, Mevrouw Fortuyn.” Huffing, the SD employee looked down at the petite hotel owner. 

“Everyone knows you’re the daughter of Charlotte Fischer. You’re as German as they come,” she announced loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. Birgit felt ready for the ground to swallow her whole, but she batted her eyes and retorted: “Would you like to see my  _ Persoonsbewijs _ , Mevrouw Fortuyn? You will have to accompany little Juffrouw Smit back to our table at the teahouse to do so, I’m afraid.” Suddenly a small voice added: “That’s where my mummy is!” Joanna chuckled happily at Debby’s addition.

“Yes, your  _ mama _ . Because Juffrouw Kuijpers never had the chance to have any babies before that  _ landsverrader _ Theo Westerveld got himself killed.” The sudden change of atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife. 

“Go wash your hands, Debby,” Birgit told the little girl who was grasping onto the hem of her skirt. With gritted teeth, she replied: “That's still Juffrouw Westerveld to you. And Theo ran a hotel. How dare you speak ill of the dead!” Joanna only shook her head.

“Poor, poor little Birgit. All alone, and so naive.” With no further comment, she left the building. 

 

As they returned to the group, Debby ran towards her mother with a trembling bottom lip.

“Mama! There was a scary lady who said Mijnheer Westerveld was a  _ landsverrader _ ! But she's wrong! Right mummy?” The men and women sitting at the table froze, until Max managed to ask: “Who?”

“Joanna Fortuyn,” Birgit explained, taking a seat between him and Frank, leaning against Max’s shoulder.

“Of course she would,” Annelie sighed. “Mevrouw Fortuyn must have been mistaken!”

“Right,” Debby concurred, “because Mijnheer Westerveld was a good person!” Max smiled.

“Absolutely Debby!” Underneath the tablecloth, Frank gently caressed the back of Birgit’s hand, trying to offer her a little support. From the looks of it, her mind was racing a mile a minute. 

 

After they had seen every single animal in  _ Artis _ , the group walked back towards the exit.

“Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” Debby asked Birgit as she skipped beside the blonde, who shook her head.

“I’m sorry,  _ lieverd _ , I have to work at the hospital. Tomorrow, okay?” she promised the large-eyed girl. Debby nodded. She could live with that.

“Will you be careful, Gitte?” Frank asked, eyeing the woman. “The night is cold and extremely dark these days.” Now that all windows had to be blackened at night to avoid air raids, the city seemed a solid black at night.

“I’ll be alright,” she responded with a gentle smile. “I have my  _ knijpkat _ .” Somehow, that didn’t reassure the others at all.

 

-x-

 

Vera was about to leave the office for the night when she saw Mevrouw Fortuyn speak to a German soldier. She knew she needed to leave soon, as her  _ Sonderausweis _ only gave her clearance to traverse the streets for a few hours after sundown, but her curiosity got the best of her as she leant against a doorpost to try to overhear the conversation.

“ _ Verstehen Sie, Herr Hooft, sie ist eine wunderschöne arische Witwe. Und Sie sind ein starker, intelligenter Arier. Sie braucht nur ein wenig Unterstützung; ein wenig Hilfe, um wieder auf den richtigen Weg zu kommen. _ ” - You see, mister Hooft, she is a beautiful Aryan widow. And you are a strong, smart Aryan. She just needs a little assistance; a little help to get back onto the right path.

Vera couldn’t believe her ears. Mevrouw Fortuyn, speaking so highly of people who believed in the Aryan race? She kept on listening as the man - he had to be at least forty - responded with a question.

“ _ Und Sie sind sicher, Frau Fortuyn, dass sie im gebärfähigen Alter ist? _ ” - And you are sure, Mrs. Fortuyn, that she is of childbearing age?

“ _ Oh, absolut. Sie werden sie auf dem Heimweg vom Prinsengracht-Krankenhaus finden. Eine junge blonde Krankenschwester auf dem Weg zum Carlton Hotel. Sie können sie auf dem Kerkstraat überraschen. _ ” - Oh, definitely. You will find her on her way home from the Prinsengracht hospital. A young blonde nurse on her way to the Carlton Hotel. You could surprise her at the Kerkstraat.

“ _ Und was war ihre Name? _ ” - And what was her name?

When Joanna answered, Vera felt her heart sink to her feet. She was about ready to throw up.

“Birgit Westerveld.”

 

-x-

 

Teus van Veen was reading  _ Het Parool _ to Boemer in the living room of the Coenen residence, when suddenly a frazzled young woman came rushing into the home, pushing past the double doors in a hurry. As he stood up in confusion, he announced: “May I be of assistance, Mevrouw…?” Boemer got up as well, and commented: “I know you! You’re Jakob Stevens’s wife!” The woman nodded hastily, attempting to catch her breath so she could speak. She managed to gasp: “Vera Stevens-Bernard. Is Birgit Westerveld here?” Teus shook his head.

“No, she should just be leaving the Prinsengracht.” 

“Verdomme!” the woman yelled into the room. “Where are Mijnheer Coenen and that Rotterdam gentleman?!”

“Max and Frank Daels? They’re in Amstelveen, helping out at a soup kitchen. They won’t be back for at least another hour. Why? What’s going on?” Teus asked, offering Vera a seat. She refused and shook her head.

“I overheard Joanna Fortuyn telling a  _ Mof _ about Birgit at the  _ SD _ office. I think she may be in danger!” Vera was near tears. Teus immediately dropped the book onto the floor and rushed into the hallway, grabbing his coat and scarf.

“Boemer, you’re staying here to talk to Max and Frank when they get back and tell them what’s going on. Mevrouw Stevens, we need to go find Birgit. Show me where. Please.” 

Together, Vera and Teus disappeared into the black of the night, silently praying they would get to the blonde in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standaardnederlands:  
> Voor Joden verboden: Prohibited for Jews  
> Persoonsbewijs: ID Document  
> Landsverrader: Traitor  
> Lieverd: Sweetheart  
> Knijpkat: Dyno torch - a flashlight or pocket torch which stores energy in a flywheel.  
> Het Parool: an Amsterdam-based daily newspaper. It was first published on 10 February 1941 as a resistance paper during the German occupation of the Netherlands. Its name means The Password or The Motto.  
> Verdomme: Damn it
> 
> Standarddeutsch:  
> Die Deutsche Frau raucht nicht, die Deutsche Frau trinkt nicht und die Deutsche Frau schminkt sich nicht: The German woman does not smoke, the German woman does not drink and the German woman does not use makeup. - A slogan used by the Nazis, to encourage women to be obedient and be mothers, having as many children as possible to increase the size of the Aryan race.


	5. Wenn Liebe Stirbt - Quand L'Amour Meurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take the trigger warning into consideration. If you would like a summary of the events of this chapter without explicit details, please feel free to message me.

_ Late winter of 1942 _

 

**TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions and descriptions of sexual assault. The chapter can be skipped.**

 

The night seemed as dark as coal as Vera and Teus sped through the streets of Amsterdam. Though Teus didn’t have a permit to be out of his home, he momentarily couldn't care less. All he was focused on, was finding Birgit. 

“Mevrouw Fortuyn mentioned that he would be able to surprise her in the  _ Kerkstraat _ ,” Vera commented, panting as they increased their pace. 

“That’s not too far from here.” Teus guided Vera around a corner, but suddenly the young woman gasped. They had come face-to-face with a group of policemen. 

 

-x-

 

Birgit walked out of the hospital, waving at the night receptionist as she unlocked her bicycle and began making her way towards the Carlton. She barely spent any time at her home in the  _ Lindengracht  _ anymore; she was always either at the hotel or at the Coenen residence. She even had given Kaat and Bea a key, just in case the Resistance needed a place for someone to stay at. As she approached the  _ Kerkstraat _ , she could make out the silhouette of an adult male, signalling at her. She hit the brakes and stepped off of her bike.

“Can I help you?” She approached him with a gentle smile. Being lost in the streets of Amsterdam at this hour could make even the toughest man uncomfortable. As she got closer, she could make out his uniform - he was a German soldier. Shaking her head, she corrected herself: 

“ _ Entschuldigung. Kann ich Ihnen helfen? _ ” - My apologies, can I help you?

The man nodded. 

“ _ Vielleicht. Leutnant Detlev Hooft. Ich suche das Carlton Hotel. _ ” - Possibly. Lieutenant Detlev Hooft. I’m looking for the Carlton Hotel. 

Birgit smiled at him once more.

“ _ Zum Glück bin ich die Besitzerin des Carltons, Leutnant Hooft. Folgen Sie mich bitte.” -  _ Luckily I am the owner of the Carlton, Lieutenant Hooft. Please, follow me.

“ _ Danke, Frau…? _ ” - Thank you, Mrs…?

The German nodded his head in acknowledgement of her offer.

“ _ Fräulein, _ ” Birgit corrected. “Birgit Westerveld.” That statement delivered her a rather unsettling grin from the German. Before she could realise what was happening, he had roughly grabbed her and pulled her into an alleyway, his hand clasping over her mouth before she had the time to scream.

“ _ Zuerst werden Sie mich folgen, Fräulein Westerveld. _ ” - First, you will follow me, Miss Westerveld.

Birgit could only close her eyes and hope it would be over soon.

 

-x-

 

“Officers, please, you don’t understand, our friend is in danger!” Teus begged, trying to convince the policemen to let them continue on their way. The taller one shook his head.

“Nice try, buddy. You don’t have a permit, and you, Mevrouw Stevens, what would your husband think if he knew you were out here by yourself with another man?” Vera recognised him as Albert; Jacob and he had gone through training together. 

“I don’t care!” she spat back. “Juffrouw Westerveld is in danger!”

“Birgit?” The exclamation came from the other side of the street, where another group of cops was patrolling. A man stepped forward - Willem, Teus realised.

 

“What’s going on?” the officer asked, approaching the group of people.

“Birgit is in peril!” Vera exclaimed, close to tears now. She felt so horribly responsible in a way for whatever might be occurring to the young blonde nurse at that very moment.

“Where is she?”

“The  _ Kerkstraat. _ ”

“Let’s go.”

 

-x-

 

" _Keiner wird Ihnen das glauben, schmierige Schlampe._ " - No one will believe you, disgusting/dirty slut.

Birgit was curled up against the rough bricks of a nearby building, trying to comprehend what had just happened, though she wasn’t completely sure whether she even wanted to fully understand what had transpired. She gazed at her surroundings. The once serene, velvety layer of snow that covered every surface was now disturbed, flecks of blood staining it. The closer to her, the more red she saw. Everything hurt - her head, her limbs, her hips, her thighs, her... The biting cold was eating at her uncovered skin, her torn clothing unable to protect her from the freezing weather. For the very first time in her life, she was convinced that she was going to die. She said a silent prayer and closed her eyes. 

 

Just as the darkness began to close in on her, strong arms pulled her up. She whimpered softly. 

“We’ve got you.”


	6. Kleine, Treue Nachtigall

_ Late winter of 1942 _

When Frank and Max had arrived at the Herengracht that fateful night, Boemer had tried her best to explain what had occurred during their absence, but the situation was almost too complicated for the poor girl to describe accurately. It didn’t matter. All the two men needed to hear was: “Vera said Birgit is in danger.” They immediately grabbed their coats and hats and headed towards the front door. However, the moment Frank pulled it open, two figures carrying a third, with a smaller person trailing behind them, came around the corner. As they neared the building, Max could make out Willem and Teus, and he realised the smaller figure behind them was Vera. The policeman was cradling a limp woman against his chest, shielding her from the harsh winter air as well as he could. 

“Birgit!” Frank called out, stepping aside so the entire group could enter the home. Max had to suppress a gasp when he could finally take a good look at the blonde nurse. She was pale and her clothing was covered in blood. Analysing the people present, he realised there was only one person who could go get help, and it was the one currently carrying her. Max reached out to Willem and took the trembling body from him.

“You’ve got a  _ Sonderausweis _ ,” he clarified. “Please, go to the hospital. Any hospital.” A soft whisper against his chest begged: “Doortje.” Willem nodded.

“I’ll go get her as quickly as I can; I promise.” He wrapped his coat tighter around his body and ran off into the night. 

 

Meanwhile, Vera and Boemer had gathered some clean washcloths and warm water in a spare bedroom. With hushed voices, the group moved the semi-conscious blonde onto soft sheets. The pristine fabric was immediately covered in red stains. 

“Oh, Birgit,” Frank whispered, kneeling at her side. He gently grasped her hand while he ran a hand through her hair, observing her. Her immaculate updo had been completely destroyed. Her clothing was torn. She was struggling to stay awake, and he wanted to kill whoever had done this to her. Sensing the other’s sentiments, he was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one. Vera suddenly cleared her throat.

“I, uh…” She blushed profusely, but continued: “We need to get her out of her clothing.”

“Right,” Max confirmed, immediately stepping out into the hallway with Teus. Frank hesitantly loosened his hold on Birgit’s hand, but just as he tried to move away, she grasped his as tightly as she could in her current state.

“Stay,” she begged, new tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Frank could only nod, and whispered: “I’m not going anywhere,  _ meissie _ .” It wasn’t exactly how he had dreamt of seeing the blonde nurse out of her clothing, if ever, but Vera was right. She was soaked to the bone with blood and melting snow. The secretary eyed him sideways, but nodded. She silently began unbuttoning what remained of Birgit’s dress while Boemer took care of her shoes. The women tried to reach for her stockings, but their fingers came into contact with soft skin instead of nylon. Vera smiled gently - she had drawn a fake seam on the back of her legs, creating the illusion of hosiery. It seemed even the woman in charge of one of the largest still-running hotels in Amsterdam wasn’t immune to the textile shortages. As more of her fair skin was exposed, more bruising and blood became visible. Frank had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from reacting audibly. At the sight of the evidence of all of the violence, Boemer’s complexion was becoming paler by the second. 

“You can go, Suzan,” Vera told her softly. “Doortje will be here soon.”

“It’s okay,” Birgit managed to croak. “Go to Max.” The young girl left the room swiftly while Vera pushed the final piece of clothing - Birgit’s skirt - down her body. Both she and Frank immediately averted their eyes, trying to offer her some sort of modesty. 

“Don’t,” the blonde immediately protested. “Just help me, please.” The brunette grabbed a soft rag from the bucket of warm water she had brought into the bedroom and carefully began cleaning Birgit’s skin. It was a relief to see the blood slowly disappear, but scrapes and cuts presented themselves in its place. Doortje couldn’t arrive soon enough. They needed professional help.

 

_ Early spring of 1942 _

Birgit recovered slowly but surely, and within weeks she was running the Carlton again, albeit more by sitting behind her desk than before. Everyone was changing. Everyone had already changed. The bitterness and cold had penetrated their very beings. 

 

Frank was walking through the hallways of the Carlton when Klaartje, the hotel’s faithful receptionist, approached him.

“Mijnheer Daels? Juffrouw Westerveld requests your presence in her personal office.” The young girl blushed while she delivered her message. Though Birgit treated her personnel like family, her private chambers were off-limits for most. 

“I just need to deliver this paperwork to Mijnheer Coenen,” he commented, motioning at the stack of files in his hands. “Then I will be right there.”

“I could mail them for you, if you’d like?” she suggested. Frank smiled at the helpfulness of the girl in her naivety. He shook his head.

“No, thank you, Klaartje. It won’t take long, and he needs them today. Please tell Juffrouw Westerveld I will be there in twenty minutes.” Nodding, the girl ran off. He quickly made his way downstairs and out the front door, greeting the doormen along the way. His bicycle, provided by Kat, was locked to a nearby lamppost, and the route to the Coenen residence took only a few minutes. Frank knocked on the door. When Max’s sister let him in, he greeted her with three kisses before making his way to the back building. Max was sitting at his desk and looked up at him when he entered.

“In a hurry, Frank?” he joked, motioning at Frank’s head. Raising a hand to his hair, he realised he had forgotten his hat at the Carlton. Chuckling, Frank responded: “Something like that. Here are the files you requested.” He handed the Amsterdam man the paperwork.

“Thank you,” Max replied with a gentle smile. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Frank shook his head.

“No, I have to go meet with Birgit.” Max observed him silently. “What?”

“You like her.”

“ _ Ben je van de pot gepleurd? Tieft de tempel uit _ !” Frank responded immediately, turning to leave the room, and, secondarily, to hide his reddened cheeks. As he disappeared from Max’s view, the man mumbled: “And she likes you too.  _ Se hebben ‘n plank foor s’n harses. _ ”

 

Arriving back at the Carlton, Frank scaled the multiple flights of stairs as quickly as he could until he arrived at the top floor, and knocked on the door marked ‘private’. He could make out Birgit’s voice calling out: “Yes?”

“Gitte, it’s me.” He anxiously hopped from one foot onto the other.

“Come in, please.” Slipping inside, he closed the door behind him. Birgit was standing by the window, looking at the  _ Munttoren  _ across the street. He walked up to the blonde and opened his arms to her. As she stepped into his embrace, he realised she was trembling.

“Gitte? What’s wrong?” When she didn’t respond, he tried once more: “Birgit?” If it hadn’t been so quiet in her office, he wouldn’t have been able to make out her reply, but when he did, he could feel his heart drop into his shoes.

“I’m pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support and sweet comments while we continue this epos. I thank you dearly.
> 
> \--  
> Standarddeutsch:  
> Sonderausweis: Travel authorisation, allowing the bearer to traverse the streets after the air raid curfew.
> 
> Rotterdam dialect:  
> Meissie: ‘Little girl’, term of endearment.  
> Ben je van de pot gepleurd: ‘Did you fall off of the toilet’, are you nuts?  
> Tieft de tempel uit: ‘Leave the temple’, get lost.
> 
> Amsterdam dialect:  
> Se hebben ‘n plank foor s’n harses: ‘They’ve got a plank in front of their heads’, they’re nuts; they’re oblivious.
> 
> Standaardnederlands:  
> Munttoren: Mint tower, which still stands in Amsterdam to this day.


	7. Für Alles Kommt Die Zeit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get more of an idea of what life was like in the Netherlands during the Second World War, I highly recommend you watch this video of video imaging from the war: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_AbCgN6mXY. Warning: two short shots are of deceased bodies, though there is no gore, they are obviously not alive.

_ Late autumn of 1942 _

Huffing softly as she climbed the stairs to the second floor, Birgit smiled as Annelie and her boys came into view. Birgit had moved them into the Carlton permanently, to keep them safe. So far, only full Jews were in danger, but you could never be sure. 

“Shouldn’t you be taking the elevator by now?” the blonde woman commented, holding out a hand to help her scale the last few steps. Birgit shook her head.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.” 

“Just a suggestion,” Annelie told her softly, holding up her hands in defence. “I just know how I felt while I was carrying these two.” She ruffled one of the youngster’s hair, earning her a grunt from him and a smirk from his brother. 

“You were carrying two miracles,” Birgit mumbled softly, before excusing herself. She continued down the hall until she reached room 214. Knocking on the door, she could hear muted footsteps growing closer. The door swung open, revealing an angry-looking German officer.

“ _ Oberstleutnant? _ ” she greeted the man.” _ Sie haben gesagt, Sie wollten mit dem Besitzer sprechen? _ ” - Lieutenant Colonel? You said you wanted to speak with the owner?

“ _ Ja. Wo ist der, dann? _ ” - Yes, so where is he?

“ _ Ich bin’s, _ ” Birgit stated with a polite smile. - That’s me.

“ _ Dann kannst du jetzt schon wieder gehen, Süße. Ich will einen Mann sprechen. _ ” - Then you can leave, sweetheart. I need to speak to a man.

“ _ Mein Buchhalter ist ein Mann _ .” - My bookkeeper is a man.

“ _ Vergiss es. Dieser Scheissort ist ein verdammtes Chaos. _ ” - Never mind. This shitty place is a damned mess. 

The officer shoved Birgit back into the hallway and slammed the door shut. The hotel-owner gasped as her back made contact with the opposing wall and her hands immediately cradled her abdomen, instinctively keeping the unborn child safe. Shaking her head, she let go again. To call that parasite a child would be an honour it wasn’t worthy of. It was making her miserable, and the worst part was that everyone could see it from a mile away. Sighing deeply, she turned around and walked back to the stairwell. She eyed the elevator, and considered pressing the call button. If only she could operate the mechanics herself, then they wouldn’t need their bell boys. She refused to ask for the help of her own darned staff. She was above that.

 

“Hey Gitte,”a familiar voice greeted her as she stepped into the lobby. Birgit was slightly out of breath from the descent, but smiled and walked over to him. He kissed her cheeks thrice before moving his hand down to her rounded belly, whispering softly: “And hello little one.” He tried to caress her sore skin through the fabric of her blouse, but she instantly pushed him away.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, reaching for her.

“Just,”she whispered, but she found herself unable to voice her thoughts. “We’ll talk about this later. I have a hotel to run.” Birgit quickly walked away before Frank could continue the conversation, which suddenly felt like an interrogation.

“ _ Verdomme _ , Gitte,” he grumbled under his breath. 

 

In the restaurant of the Carlton, Joanna Fortuyn had called a meeting. She suppressed a smug grin as she looked at the people standing at the table, waiting for her to sit down. Sonia Speijer - Abbink, whatever, the woman still was Jewish no matter what her fake papers said - was directly to her right, while multiple desperate affluent Jewish families were seated around the large table. Joanna had requested a table in a secluded area of the dining room, allowing for a false sense of security to comfort her newest targets. Nodding at them all, she took a seat, and they all immediately followed. 

“I shall get right to the matter at hand,” she stated, motioning a waitress over to serve them all coffee. “And make it pure coffee,” Joanna commanded the girl. The waitress shook her head, and responded: “I’m very sorry,  _ Mevrouw _ , but I cannot do that. We have been forced to serve  _ Pitto  _ since 1940. Our stock only got us so far.” Joanna huffed.

“Very well. Bring us the damned Pitto, then.” She put on a friendly face for her company, and began: “I understand that you are all in a precarious position. I want to help you, and I am in a position to do so.” Pulling a few safety deposit boxes from her leather bag, she laid them out on the table, along with a stack of promissory notes. “I can keep your valuables safe while you relocate to a safe place. I’ve got addresses ready for you.” The couples seemed hesitant to leave their possessions with an SD woman, so Sonja cleared her throat and spoke: “She can be trusted, really.” The girl returned with the warm drinks, allowing everyone some time to think.

“Are you sure, Sonja?” one of the women asked her, reaching out to hold the  _ Vertrauensfrau _ ’s hand.

“I promise,” Sonja replied. “I wouldn’t have brought you to Joanna if she hadn’t been good to me.” It wasn’t a complete lie, in a sense. Nodding, the couples agreed, and signed the forms. They handed over their jewels and gemstones to the tall woman sitting across from them, putting their fate in her hands.

“It’s likely safer than putting our faith in the  _ Moffen _ ,” the man sitting next to Sonja commented. Joanna smiled.

“I’ll get you to those safehouses now, then.”

 

As the sun set and curfew started, Franky still hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Birgit. He cornered her in the staff corridors in the basement, pulling her into an empty office. Shrieking, she pulled free of his grasp.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” she nearly screamed at him.

“Me? You should hear yourself!” he forcefully spoke back, grabbing her again and holding her in place against the wall. “You’re behaving recklessly, exhausting yourself, putting yourself in danger, while you’re carrying a baby!” Birgit scoffed and mumbled: “To call that thing a baby.”

“What else would you call it, then?” Frank inquired, trying to get a sense of what was going on inside her head. “I’m not a mind-reader, Gitte.  _ Verdomme _ , I just need you to talk to me!”

“That parasite inside of me is seventy-five percent  _ Mof _ , Frank. I’m carrying a monster.” Her voice broke at her own admission and she collapsed, Frank’s quick reflexes the only thing saving her from falling onto the tiles. 

“Oh, Gitte,” he whispered softly, holding her close. 

 

That night, Joanna handed German officers a list of locations of Jews, and received a nice sum in exchange. Grinning to herself, she walked back towards the Carlton Hotel. She deserved a nice drink. Something strong.

 

_ November 1942 _

Now that Birgit was close to giving birth, she didn’t leave the Carlton much anymore. Therefore, the group of friends was gathered in her personal quarters, waiting for  _ Radio Oranje _ . 

“Shh!” Bea hushed Boemer as she attempted to tune the radio to the right frequency to receive the BBC. As ten o’clock grew closer, the gathered men and women became increasingly quieter. Suddenly, a triple knock followed by a soft stomp sounded at the door.

“That must be Teus,” Max announced, getting up to let the man in. Teus entered quickly, asking: “Kat, Willem, Frank, Max, could I speak with you? Birgit, may I use your office?” The blonde nodded from where she was seated, and the invitees followed Teus into the small study. 

“What’s going on?” Kat asked, hands on her hips.

“The  _ Mof _ who attacked Birgit?” Teus began. Everyone nodded, and Willem asked: “His name was Hooft, right? Vera mentioned something like that.” 

“Yes, Detlev Hooft. We know where he is. We’ve been trying to find him for months, and we’ve finally tracked him down. If we want to do something, we have to act now. Immediately.” 

“We talked about what we would do if we got the opportunity,” Kat stated. “Are we all still willing to do that?” All nodded. “Very well. Then Frank, Willem and I will go. Teus, you will guide us to his location, but you will not get involved unless I give the signal. Boemer will stay with you too. Max, we will need you to keep Birgit out of this. Everyone got it?” Everyone nodded again. “Good. Let’s get this show on the road.”

 

Frank walked over to Birgit and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, apologising: “I’m so sorry, but we have to go take care of something. Will you be alright?” The blonde offered him a tired smile.

“I’ll be okay. My back has been hurting all day, but everything will be okay.”

“I’ll be back in the morning, I promise. Max will stay here in the meantime.”

“Be safe.” Knowing he couldn’t give her his word he would, Frank only gently caressed the back of Birgit’s hand.

 

The small team of people quickly moved to the ground floor and walked out of the Carlton, into the cold night air. 

“How will we get past the  _ Moffen _ ?” Boemer inquired. “It’s curfew.”

“We’re pretending you’re with me,” Willem responded, straightening his uniform cap. “It’s our only chance to catch this  _ klootzak _ .” The wind was freezing as they moved towards the Coenen residence. 

“How many of us can we arm?” Kat asked softly.

“Every single one,” Teus replied

“Good. We’ll need it.”

 

Hours passed, and Birgit grew more concerned by the minute.

“Why won’t you tell me what they’re doing, Max?” she grumbled. “I deserve to know what our friends are doing.”

“I promised them I would not tell you,” the man responded. 

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going out to find them myself,” Birgit decided. She grunted as she attempted to get up from where she was sitting, pain shooting through her spine and reaching into her lower abdomen. Suddenly, she felt a wetness between her legs. Cursing softly, she moved towards the bathroom. This baby had been pressing on her bladder for weeks now, and moving around only made it worse. 

“Lies?” her voice called out from the small room, an audible tremble affecting the clarity of her speech. The woman made her way over to her. Instead of the expected urine, the moisture between her legs was slightly pinkish. “I can’t make it stop.”

“ _ Mijn Hemel _ ,” the older woman commented softly. “You’re in labour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pitto: A mixture of acorns, roasted chicory and grain, used to substitute real coffee while it was scarce.  
> Klootzak: ‘bag of balls’, asshole  
> Radio Oranje: A Dutch-language radio programme on the BBC European Service managed by the Dutch government-in-exile and broadcast to the occupied Netherlands during World War II. It was broadcast from London, and was broadcast for 15 minutes at 9PM each day. The first broadcast occurred on 28 July 1940, when Queen Wilhelmina made a speech. In total, Wilhelmina spoke on Radio Oranje 34 times during the course of the war.  
> Mijn Hemel: ‘my heaven’, heavens me


	8. Still War Die Nacht

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Descriptions of violence, major character deaths, childbirth, descriptions of blood and injuries

_ November 1942 _

Birgit’s personal quarters had gone completely silent at Lies’ realisation. The older woman softly told her: “It’s okay, we’ll get you through this.” Instead of the panic Birgit had expected she would feel, a sense of defeat and resignation came over her. Nodding, she followed Lies into her bedroom. 

“Call Doortje at the hospital,” Birgit told Bea. “She’s done this thousands of times before.” The redhead got up and nearly ran downstairs to the lobby. Reaching the reception desk, she seized the telephone from a disgruntled hotel guest, and picked up the phone, calling out: “Operator? The  _ Prinsengracht _ Hospital, please.” She waited impatiently for the correct connection to be made on the switchboard.

“ _ I’m putting you through now. _ ” Within seconds, the phone on the other end of the line was picked up, and Doortje’s familiar voice answered: “ _ Prinsengracht _ , how may I help you?”

“Door? It’s Bea. We need you. Well, Birgit needs you.”

“I’m on my way.”

 

-x-

 

On the other side of the city centre, a small group cloaked in black moved through the cold night air. They spoke no words as they walked, pressing themselves against the facades of the buildings. Anything to prevent them from gaining unwanted attention. 

 

-x-

 

Lies had kicked everyone out of Birgit’s personal quarters, telling them to wait in the private drawing room instead. Warm water and clean towels were stacked on the dresser, and the older woman had made the bed with old sheets. 

“At the hospital, you could get a  _ Dämmerschlaf _ , you know,” Liz commented while Birgit gently sat down on the mattress. The nurse shook her head.

“I don’t want that.” 

 

-x-

 

When the group rounded a corner, Willem suddenly pushed them into an alleyway.

“That’s him,” he whispered. “Standing by that streetlight.” Kat peeked out past the brick wall and saw a quartet of German soldiers guarding a checkpoint. 

“ _ Verdomme _ . How are we going to separate them?” Frank whispered. 

“Leave it up to me.” The statement came from Kat, who took off her hat and unpinned her hair, lifting her skirt slightly higher up her waist. She walked over to the Germans and asked: 

“ _ Meine Herren, können Sie mir vielleicht helfen? Ich habe mich verirrt; ich suche das Carlton Hotel. _ ” - Gentlemen, could you perhaps help me? I am lost; I’m looking for the Carlton Hotel.

The Germans looked at one another, grinning. 

“ _ Du, Detlev, begleitest die Dame doch mal. So eine schöne Frau soll doch nicht alleine in die Straße gehen, na? _ ” - Detlev, escort the lady, would you. Such a lovely woman shouldn’t traverse the streets alone at night, hey?

The lieutenant smirked, and nodded. 

“ _ Komm _ .” - Come

He held out his arm for Kat to take, guiding her towards a different street. The woman giggled nervously and followed him until they walked past an alleyway. She could see the glint of Willem’s uniform jacket reflecting in the darkness. Suddenly, she pulled on the Lieutenant’s arm and dragged him away from the street. The group cornered them immediately, Teus and Willem holding down his arms while Frank pushed Kat to the side.

“Are you sure you want to be a part of this?” he asked, turning towards the blonde. She nodded. 

“You bet.” With a loud grunt, she delivered the first punch to Detlev’s abdomen, who screamed out in pain.

“Not so tough now, hey?”

 

-x-

 

Birgit was laying back against her pillows, breathing as calmly as she could as a contraction pierced through her body. Her eyes were closed, and she was humming softly. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anyone in here with you?” Doortje inquired, wiping her forehead with a wet cloth. “I could ask Annelie to assist?” The Dutch East-Indian woman had arrived as soon as she could, bearing supplies and sedation, which the blonde had refused. 

“Frank,” Birgit responded on an exhale. Sighing, Doortje sat down on the bed next to her, carefully grasping her hand.

“Hopefully he’ll be back soon.”

 

-x-

 

Lieutenant Hooft was breathing heavily, his shirt bloodied and torn. Frank was no physician, but he was fairly sure the German had multiple broken bones by now. 

“Enough,” he announced, pulling a revolver from his coat. “It’s time to end this.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Willem asked him. “I can do it.” The Jewish man shook his head.

“I need to do this myself. For Birgit.” At the mention of the blonde nurse, the soldier’s eyes grew wide. Frank raised the weapon to the man’s temple, and let it click once. 

“May God have mercy on your soul,” Kat muttered quickly before Frank pulled the trigger, and a loud boom followed. The lifeless body of Lieutenant Detlev Hoofd dropped onto the ground, and silence surrounded them.

 

-x-

 

“You’re going to have to push soon, Birgit,” Doortje softly told the woman in the bed. “We can’t delay this for much longer.” Suddenly, Birgit felt a surge of panic travel through her, settling in her chest. “I know, I know,” Doortje soothed instantly, caressing her hand. “But if you don’t, it’ll become dangerous. You know that.” The blonde nodded, closing her eyes again.

“I’m ready.”

“On the next contraction, we’ll…” the nurse began, but she was interrupted by a ruckus in the hallway. A knock sounded at the door, and Frank’s voice called out: “Doortje? May I come in?” The woman sighed. It wasn’t exactly customary for a man to be present during childbirth, but then again, when did Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers ever do anything the standard way? 

“Come in,” she called out, “but be quiet.” The door slipped open, and a nervous-looking Frank stepped into the room, nearly glueing himself to the wall. Smiling, Doortje motioned for him to approach the bed.

“May I hold her?” he asked, advancing slowly. The nurse nodded. He climbed onto the bed and slipped behind the blonde, gathering her against his chest so she could anchor herself. 

“I’ve got you,  _ schoonheid _ .”

 

The only sounds in the room were Birgit’s muted panting and Doortje’s whispered instructions. Frank could only watch in awe and feel honoured that she would let him hold her. Suddenly, Doortje gasped: “One more push, Bir. You’re almost there.” Birgit nodded, her eyes still closed. She grasped the sheets tightly and gathered her final strength, until the silence in the bedroom was pierced by a loud cry. Doortje quickly lifted the baby up and laid the newborn against Birgit’s chest, smiling broadly. “You did it. You have a daughter.” Piercing blue eyes opened to stare into an identical pair.

“Lotte,” she whispered. “Charlotte...Daels.” 

At the mention of his last name, Frank beamed brightly.

 

-x-

 

_ Autumn of 1943 _

Despite everything that was going on in society, summer still arrived in Amsterdam. Boemer was doting over little baby Lotte in the carriage while Birgit and Vera followed behind her. They watched as the young girl was telling the baby story after story of the horsing around she had done growing up, while reminding Lotte: “But don’t do any of that. Your mama will kill me.” Birgit chuckled in response. As they walked past an alleyway, her attention was suddenly caught by a figure hunched-over against the wall. 

“Boemer, hold on.” She approached the man slowly, calling out: “Hello?” The injured man whimpered softly. Recognising a police uniform, she told Vera: “Go get the police on the corner. It’s an officer.” The blonde knelt down by the man, checking his state. He was covered in blood, both dried and fresh. It seemed to be flowing from his abdomen. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologised, “but I need to see your wounds.” She guided the man to stand up straight, and opened his uniform jacket. It was soaked in blood. Now, on closer inspection, she could see that the policeman had multiple stab wounds. The weapon was nowhere in sight, so the exsanguination was taking place at a fast pace.

“ _ Verdomme _ ,” she cursed. “What’s your name, officer?” The man swallowed a few times before hoarsely whispering: “Stevens.”

“Stay awake, Mijnheer Stevens. I’m a nurse, and I’m going to get you help. Do you know who did this to you?” Birgit took off her light scarf and used it to apply pressure on the injuries. Officer Stevens winced, and managed to gasp: “Fortuyn.” The nurse froze at the mention of the SD employee. 

“Joanna Fortuyn?” she inquired. Could the fear-inducing woman really have done this to an officer? Before she could ask any further questions, the policeman collapsed onto the pavement. Footsteps approached, and Vera and Boemer appeared in her field of view with Lotte, flanked by two other police officers. At the sight of the man slumped against the alley walls, Vera froze. Then she sprinted ahead and knelt down at his side, screaming: “Jakob! Birgit, please, save him!” The blonde walked over and laid a hand on the secretary’s shoulder, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Vera.” 

The woman’s cry of agony for her husband could be heard hundreds of metres away.

 

-x-

 

“We have to take down Fortuyn,” Willem announced in the meeting room of the Carlton Hotel after Jakob’s funeral. Vera was limply holding onto Birgit’s arm, with Teus standing behind them. Kat nodded.

“I don’t want more lives to be sacrificed to this damned war,” Vera whispered.

“If we don’t, who knows what Fortuyn will do?” Bea inquired. “I’d give my life for that, willingly.” Sighing, Kat added: “Tomorrow night. When she leaves the SD.”

Joanna smirked from a distance. 

 

-x-

 

Hiding behind pillars and cars, the group of friends waited for every other employee to leave the office of the  _ Sicherheitsdienst _ . It was no secret that Joanna Fortuyn was always the last one to leave the building, so it made for the perfect moment to confront her. As she came into view at the top of the stairs leading into the central lobby, Vera held her breath. This was it. They all followed her outside silently, where the tall raven-haired woman rounded the corner, entering the courtyard behind the main building. Kat held up a hand to signal everyone to wait. This wasn’t where she normally went, but it just might make their job even easier.

“I know you’re there. All of you.” Joanna announced it with confidence. “You’re not that clandestine, you know.” 

Everyone froze.

Taking a deep breath, Vera walked out from behind the pillar she was hiding against. Fortuyn grinned.

“That was a mistake, dear Vera.” Lunging forward, she tackled Vera to the ground, and the smaller woman could feel a blade against her neck. 

“No!” Before anyone could realise what was happening, Bea had flung herself against Joanna, rolling her over. The SD employee grinned once more and shrugged.

“Not exactly whom I was hoping for, but it’ll do. Say goodbye to your daughter, Smit.” She drove the knife into Bea’s abdomen over and over, a large puddle of blood appearing beneath them nearly instantly. 

A loud bang resounded, and Joanna fell limply onto the ground. 

Vera was shaking as the gun in her hands smoked with the discharge. The group rushed over to Bea, but it was too late. 

“Jesus, Bea, why’d you do that?” Frank asked her, helping her take shaky breaths while Birgit attempted to tend to her stab wounds. Hiding her face from the redhead, the blonde nurse shook her head at Kat. They would never be able to get her to a hospital in time. Bea struggled to speak, blood gathering in her throat, but she managed to whisper: “Debby.” Looking over at Birgit, Frank spoke a wordless agreement. Smiling gently through his terror, he reassured the dying woman: “We’ll take care of her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the end of this story - the next chapter will be the final one. Thank you for coming on this journey with me so far. :)


	9. Bevrijding - Nawoord - Dankwoord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this chapter and the previous were posted within 24 hours of each other - please make sure to read chapter 8 first.

_ May 8th, 1945 _

Birgit and Frank found themselves on the balcony of the top floor of the Carlton. The streets of Amsterdam were filled with people, both Dutch and Canadian, dressed in red, white, blue and orange, dancing and laughing. 

“It’s over,” Frank whispered.

“I can’t believe it,” Birgit responded. “How will the city ever return to normal? How will we ever return to normal?” Frank sighed softly, staring out over the  _ Vijzelstraat _ . In the distance, he could see Lies and Annelie with her boys, Lotte and Debby. The young girl was attempting to fly a kite, aided by a Canadian soldier. Smiling, he watched as the wind slowly lifted the kite into the air. It contrasted beautifully with the blue sky. 

“We’ve got the girls, and we’ve got each other.”

 

**_Nawoord - Afterword (English translations follow each Dutch paragraph)_ **

Het personage Joanna Fortuyn is gebaseerd op Dries Riphagen, geboren in 1909, collaborateur uit Amsterdam. Hij overleed in 1973 in Zwitserland. Hij stond bekend als ‘de ergste oorlogsmisdadiger van Amsterdam’. Riphagen heeft nooit terecht gestaan en is daarom ook nooit veroordeeld voor zijn misdaden. Sonja Speijer is gebaseerd op Betje Wery, geboren in 1920, Joodse collaborateur. Wery werkte voor het Devisenschutzkommando als Vertrauens-Frau, een spionne. Wery verscheen voor het Bijzonder Gerechtshof dat in 1948 de doodstraf eiste tegen haar. De rechter veroordeelde haar uiteindelijk tot levenslang, maar zij kwam in de jaren vijftig al op vrije voeten. Zij overleed in 2006 in Ede, Nederland. Alle andere personages zijn niet gebaseerd op personen die werkelijk hebben geleefd.

_ The character of Joanna Fortuyn was based on Dries Riphagen, born in 1909, a collaborator from Amsterdam. He died in 1973 in Switzerland. He was known as ‘the worst war criminal from Amsterdam’. Riphagen never appeared in front of a court, and therefore was never convicted for his crimes. Sonja Speijer was based on Betje Wery, born in 1920, Jewish collaborator. Wery worked for the Devisenschutzkommando as Vertrauens-Frau, a spy. Wery appeared in front of the Bijzonder Gerechtshof, a court that was established in the Netherlands immediately after the liberation to try defendants accused of committing high treason, treason and war crimes, which requested the death penalty against her in 1948. The judge convicted her to a life sentence, but she was released in the 1950’s. She died in 2006 in Ede, the Netherlands. All other characters are not based on people who have actually existed. _

 

De Tweede Wereldoorlog duurde officieel van 1 september 1939 tot 2 september 1945. Nederland capituleerde op 15 mei 1940, nadat zowel Nederland als België op 10 mei 1945 door Duitsland aangevallen waren. België en de zuidelijke Nederlanden werden op 17 september 1944 bevrijd. Het noorden bleef bezet tot 6 mei 1945. Nederlands-Indië werd op 10 januari 1942 binnengevallen door Japan, dat capituleerde op 15 augustus 1945. Nederland zou nooit meer volledige controle over het eilandenrijk verkrijgen, dat in 1949 onafhankelijk werd.

De oorlog eiste in totaal vijfenzeventig miljoen dodelijke slachtoffers, waarvan vijfentwintig miljoen militairen, eenenveertig miljoen burgerslachtofferse en ruim vijfeneenhalf miljoen Joodse holocaustslachtoffers. 

Zij waren niet de enige slachtoffers. Militairen en burgers die gehandicapt of met een trauma weliswaar levend maar niet wel uit de strijd kwamen, gezinnen en families van omgekomen militairen en burgers, holocaustoverlevenden, onderduikers en gezinnen en families van daders kwamen niet ongeschonden uit de oorlog. Doch, de hiervoor genoemden waren de enigen die het strijden voor de vrijheid en voor wat in hun ogen het juiste was, met hun leven hebben moeten bekopen.

 

_ The Second World War officially lasted from September 1st 1939 until September 2nd 1945. The Netherlands capitulated on May 15th 1940, after both the Netherlands and Belgium had been attacked by Germany on May 10th 1940. Belgium and the southern Netherlands were freed on September 17th 1944. The north remained occupied until May 6th 1945. The Netherlands East-Indies were invaded by Japan on January 10th 1942, which capitulated on August 15th 1945. The Netherlands would never regain full control over the island state, which became independent in 1949. _

_ The war claimed seventy-five million lives, of which twenty-five million military personnel, forty-one million civilian and over five and a half million Jewish Holocaust victims. _

_ They were not the only victims. Soldiers and civilians who came out of the battle disabled or with any sort of trauma alive but nevertheless not well, families of fallen soldiers and civilians, Holocaust survivors, people in hiding and families of offenders did not leave the war unharmed. Yet, the ones identified above were the only ones who had to pay for fighting for freedom and what was right in their eyes with their lives. _

 

**_Dankwoord - Acknowledgments_ **

Aan het einde van dit verhaal gekomen, rest mij niets anders dan het bedanken van zij die veel hebben betekend. Hierbij doel ik niet expliciet op degenen die mij, de auteur, persoonlijk sterk ondersteund hebben. Zij weten wie zij zijn, en ik ben hen zeer dankbaar. Nee, het gaat mij hierbij om de volgende personen, wiens moed, daadkracht en naastenliefde dit verhaal hebben geïnspireerd en mijn beeld van het Verzet hebben gevormd: 

De Persoonsbewijzencentrale, met in het bijzonder Gerrit van der Veen (1902-1944, gefusilleerd), Gerhard Badrian (1905-1944, doodgeschoten door Sicherheitspolizei), Hans van Gogh (gefusilleerd), Cornelis Verbiest (1918-2010), Frans Meijers (1913-1999), Frieda Belinfante (1904-1995), Johan Brouwer (1898-1943, gefusilleerd), Sam van Musschenbroek (1916-1943, gefusilleerd), Karl Gröger (1918-1943, gefusilleerd), Henri Halberstadt (1911-1943, gefusilleerd), Rudi Bloemgarten (1920-1943, gefusilleerd), Guus Reitsma (1922-1943, gefusilleerd), Cornelis Roos (1912-1943, gefusilleerd), Koen Limperg (1908-1943, gefusilleerd), Sjoerd Bakker (1915-1943, gefusilleerd), Cornelis Barentsen (1892-1943, gefusilleerd), Coos Hartogh (1917-1943, gefusilleerd), Martinus Nijhoff (1894-1953) en Willem Arondeus (1894-1943, gefusilleerd). 

Andere Verzetsstrijders: Jannetje ‘Hannie’ Schaft (1920-1945, gefusilleerd), Hermine ‘Miep Gies’ Santruschitz (1909-2010), Jan Gies (1905-1993), Bep Voskuijl (1919-1983), Johannes Kleiman (1896-1959), Victor Kugler (1900-1981), Geertruida ‘Tante Truus’ Wijsmuller-Meijer (1896-1978), Suzy van Hall (1907-1978) en Frits van Hall (1899-1945, gefusilleerd tijdens Dodenmars).

 

Zij streden en vielen voor de vrijheid.

 

Ik dank ten slotte hen die hun verhalen persoonlijk met mij gedeeld hebben. Janna en Wout.

 

_ Arriving at the end of this story, nothing remains but to thank those who have meant a great amount. With this, I do not mean those who have supported me, the author, strongly personally. They know who they are, and I am forever grateful. No, I mean the following people, whose courage, vigour and love of their fellow man have inspired this story and who have formed my personal view of the Resistance: _

_ The Persoonsbewijzencentrale, particularly Gerrit van der Veen (1902-1944, executed by firing squad), Gerhard Badrian (1905-1944, shot by the Sicherheitspolizei), Hans van Gogh (executed by firing squad), Cornelis Verbiest (1918-2010), Frans Meijers (1913-1999), Frieda Belinfante (1904-1995), Johan Brouwer (1898-1943, executed by firing squad), Sam van Musschenbroek (1916-1943, executed by firing squad), Karl Gröger (1918-1943, executed by firing squad), Henri Halberstadt (1911-1943, executed by firing squad), Rudi Bloemgarten (1920-1943, executed by firing squad), Guus Reitsma (1922-1943, executed by firing squad), Cornelis Roos (1912-1943, executed by firing squad), Koen Limperg (1908-1943, executed by firing squad), Sjoerd Bakker (1915-1943, executed by firing squad), Cornelis Barentsen (1892-1943, executed by firing squad), Coos Hartogh (1917-1943, executed by firing squad), Martinus Nijhoff (1894-1953) and Willem Arondeus (1894-1943, executed by firing squad).  _

_ Other Resistance members: Jannetje ‘Hannie’ Schaft (1920-1945, executed by firing squad), Hermine ‘Miep Gies’ Santruschitz (1909-2010), Jan Gies (1905-1993), Bep Voskuijl (1919-1983), Johannes Kleiman (1896-1959), Victor Kugler (1900-1981), Geertruida ‘Tante Truus’ Wijsmuller-Meijer (1896-1978), Suzy van Hall (1907-1978) and Frits van Hall (1899-1945, executed by firing squad during Auschwitz death march). _

 

_ They fought and fell for freedom.  _

 

_ I finally thank the ones who have shared their histories with me personally. Janna and Wout. _

 

 

Ik dank u allen, vanuit de grond van mijn hart. Opdat wij niet vergeten.

_ I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Lest we forget. _

 

 

"Er is alleen verwondering omdat het zo licht is om in liefde van het leven te scheiden, zoo blij is om, wat je achterlaat, zonder bitterheid te gedenken." ~ Willem Arondeus (1894-1943)

_ “There is but wonder because it is so light to separate from life through love, because it is so joyous to commemorate what one leaves behind without bitterness.” ~ Willem Arondeus (1894-1943) _

**Author's Note:**

> This is miles away from what I usually write, but I do enjoy writing this! Please let me know whether you liked this, or whether it piqued your interest. I'd really appreciate the feedback!
> 
> Translations of the dialect words and sentences:
> 
> Standaardnederlands:  
> Verdomme! - Damn it!
> 
> Rotterdam dialect:  
> Donderstraalt op! - Fuck off!  
> Mot je een spetter voor je broodmolê? - Do you want to be hit in the face?  
> Ik gooi je in ut lel! - I'll throw you into the river!  
> Loop niet te jelmejouwen! - Stop whining!  
> Kolerewijf! - Bitch!  
> Tyf op - Get lost
> 
> Just in case it wasn't clear, the characters' converted names are:  
> Birgit Westerveld-Kuijpers (Bridget), Frank Daels (Franky), Vera Stevens-Bernard (Vera), Joanna Fortuyn (Joan), Suzan 'Boemer' Jonkers (Boomer), Elisabeth 'Lies' van Bunschoten-de Waal (Liz), Sonja Speijer (Sonia), Doortje Andriessen (Doreen), Max 'Maxine' Coenen (Maxine), Willem Jacobs (Will), Linda Muller (Linda), Katrijn 'Kat' Prinsen (Kaz), Annelie Polak-Nelissen (Allie), Jakob Stevens (Jake), Beatrijs 'Bea' Smit (Bea), Dirk Colijn (Channing), Mattheus 'Teus' van Veen (Fletch).


End file.
